The Portrait of a Hyuga
by puzzlepuzzle
Summary: Amidst the familiar silence within the Hyuga Clan, some will struggle for self-determination and none as strongly as the betrothed Neji and Hinata. Yet, blindness, regret, lust and the crushing need for absolution plague those who scarcely know it.
1. Memento

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of _Naruto_. R&R please.**

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**The Portrait o****f a Hyuga**

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**Chapter 1: Memento**

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The fresh sticks of incense had been lighted, scenting the hall with the cloudy, somewhat stifling air of sandalwood and various perfumes. This was the second time that the incense had been offered for today, and his ancestors seemed to peer down at him from their individual windows.

Some had died young and were thus portrayed with long, dark hair in the style that they'd kept since they'd been children. Most of the others were far more senior when they'd passed on, and their portraits had been accurate to the very last wrinkle, hints of grey and somewhat haughty expressions.

Of the long rows of such portraits, a particular tattoo was present in plenty of the images. Some had received theirs at the back of their necks or on their chests, but most had those on the skin of their foreheads. It wasn't a particularly large tattoo, and the lines of the marks were thin and very fine, but the features of the tattoo were clear enough.

Framed and lighted by votive candles, all the various portraits nonetheless revealed the clan's characteristic traits—the pale skin, dark hair, and most prominent of all, the grey-lavender, pupil-less eyes of the Hyuga clan members. Pearl-eyes, some Konoha villagers liked to say. All-seeing eyes, as the Hyuga clan members themselves claimed. His own father had claimed so as well- been damned proud of it, as a matter of fact.

It was just as well, he thought now as he located his father's portrait. That one had died at a ripe old age, although he'd been remarkably fit and well-kept for someone so senior. At least there was some consolation, he thought silently, since their father would only need to watch this sorry state of affairs from his frozen portrait.

His own, he estimated, would be somewhere on the right end of the hall. There was some space there. He twisted his lips a little, wondering if the portrait-makers would take an old photograph of his. Or perhaps, they would secretly take his brother's image as direct reference. That, admittedly, would probably work too.

The thought almost made him smile.

Nobody was here in the main ceremony hall, save for him. Plenty of them had been here some hours ago, some speaking heatedly, and some looking woeful and helpless. The Elders themselves had been divided even after hours of discussion, but his acceptance and subsequent volunteering had provided a casting vote of sorts.

The incense sticks were still smoking faintly. Those had grown shorter over the hours, as had the candles, and he knew that it was nearly time. It seemed strange that everything would be marked by such inconsequential prayer items, especially when the most fervent of prayers would not change much now.

He vaguely wondered what his boy was doing now. Perhaps, the child had grown tired with the wooden puzzle that had been provided for him. The evening was approaching—surely a boy of that age would want of other playthings? But that boy was a very focused child—he'd taken it upon himself to solve it. He'd also promised to finish it within the week and to present it to his parents, since he'd imagined this to be a mission of sorts. Hopefully, it was still preoccupying most of his attentions until everything was complete.

Besides, he considered, his boy was still on mostly friendly terms with his cousin. She had wanted to help him with the wooden puzzle, and most probably, they were working on it together even at this point.

Over this year's festival, his boy had been introduced to the Hyuga heir and his cousin. They'd waited, watching out for a particular palanquin amidst the colourful, busy streets. The girl had been a pale, pretty little creature, eyes large in her childish face. And as immediately as his boy had laid eyes on her, he'd whispered, "She's adorable!"

At his son's exclamation, he'd tried to hide his surprise and pain, and he'd said quietly, "You must look after her."

The girl's father must have heard his nephew and brother, but his expression had not changed. If anything, it had become grimmer.

Now, he wondered if he'd done the right thing in instructing his son as thus. He thought of the subsequent affection that his boy had shown towards his cousin even after the sealing ceremony. His boy hadn't struggled when his uncle had placed the seal upon his flesh. After all, the searing pain of the tattoo's implementation had been momentary, and the boy had accepted his father's explanation that the seal that his uncle put on him would help to protect the boy's cousin.

Hours after the boy had woken with bandages over his forehead, he'd asked to see his cousin, and the two had been nearly inseparable since then. But surely, he reflected now, the boy was beginning to learn things. He was beginning to turn against the main family and to resent those from it, including his cousin.

Just the other day in the East training hall where the main family resided near to, the boy had seen his own father cry out as the white-shock waves of pain paralyzed him. The boy had seen what his uncle had done, and from his perspective, his uncle had been cruel. The eyes that his boy had turned to the members of the main family with had been wild and filled with anger— familiar eyes, he supposed.

It wouldn't take long now, he supposed, for the boy to view his uncle and even the cousin with fear and hatred. The boy hadn't understood that in some ways, his uncle was trying to protect his own child; not when he hadn't understood his own father's resentment. The boy had not understood the extent of the rage his father had been unable to control for a moment.

Perhaps, he thought, the boy did not sense his uncle's reluctance in dealing out the punishment. The boy thought that his uncle had done this on a whim, but he didn't know what kind of rage his own father was capable of. For sure, the boy had never seen his father fly into that blind, crushing rage, whereas his uncle had. The boy did not know that his father had lashed out at his uncle and near-strangled his own twin, and that even then, his uncle had not used the seal to fight back.

The boy did not understand that his father had felt remorse for directing his frustration against the young girl; did not understand that his father had ultimately accepted and somehow welcomed the punishment that his brother dealt out. Rather, the boy had thought it was solely at the unfair treatment that the branch members received. It was true, but there were other reasons why that resentment had developed. Whatever the case, the boy was beginning to look at even his cousin with different eyes.

Just a week ago, the boy had said to him, "I won't lose to anyone."

With some pride, he considered his boy. The child was barely five, but he had begun his training with another member of the branch family. His boy would surely grow to be a fine young man. But he had no more time to sit there, imagining what his child would accomplish.

He was not alone in this hall anymore.

The woman who'd just entered the main ceremonial hall did so in such a quiet manner that he may not have sensed her presence at all, since he'd been particularly deep in his thoughts. She'd slid the doors open gently, pattering in with bare feet that were small and white like a child's. Rather like his own son's, he thought.

As she knelt before him, he opened his eyes, looking at her. She knelt before him, both of them at the center of the hall, and he saw that she did not dare to look at him. She had always fallen into that habit—she had always been a little timid. In fact, when he'd first been introduced to this cousin, she'd hidden behind her mother.

"She's adorable." He'd then told the branch family member-cum-servant in charge of looking after him. The girl had seemed like a woeful little rabbit, peering with wide eyes at him from where she'd flattened herself, and he'd been rather charmed.

It was almost cruel, he thought, recalling the way his son had received his own cousin all those years later. His niece was but three, and yet she had already begun revealing her uncanny resemblance to her mother. What would his boy have said, he wondered, had he known everything in the past and everything that was to come?

"Your father wants you to train with her," he'd been told. "You will both protect your elder brother when the time comes."

It had been easy to forget that when they had been so caught up laughing and skipping rocks in the subsequent years. Now though, the words of the servant rang in his mind, and he surveyed the woman before him. Her head bowed now, he could see the hint of the familiar symbol. She was shivering, unable to meet his eyes.

When she was afraid, she could not really hide it. Yet, she could be courageous as well. He had learned that even when they'd been wayward children who'd run off to play in the woods despite the strict instructions issued. He'd fallen into a ravine while fishing, but she'd jumped in and swam to rescue him. She'd done that, despite her being a far poorer swimmer than him. She could be reckless and very, very brave, and for all their sakes, he willed her to be so in this particular moment.

"The hour will approach soon." He said calmly. He had been prepared for this—he had always been, ever since he had been a child. "I suppose you will prepare the body once it is ready."

Her head still bowed, she refused to look at him. It made pity well into his heart, and he sighed a little. "And what have you brought?"

He reached over with one hand, pulling her folded hands apart even as she remained prostrate. There was a little vial in it. But it was sufficient. She was very skilled with these— she knew exactly how to time deaths and to injure specific parts of the body without spending an excess drop.

Come to think of it, his brother had probably first taken notice of her during the time when she'd treated his poison-infected wounds. Since the main family led a somewhat segregated life even within the clan, his brother had never really interacted with his young second-cousin before that. As for the branch family members who lived at the West end of the estate like her, his elder brother, the Hyuga heir, must have been only a vague presence at the back of their minds—if a presence at all.

But one particular mission had left his brother severely poisoned, and she'd been the one in charge of helping him recuperate at that time. That said, the general lack of opportunities to interact would not have made this particular woman any less noticeable amongst all the others.

Looking at her now, he was rather sure that the single, chance encounter had been enough—it was likely that his elder brother had waited impatiently for her to come of a marriageable age. Certainly, the Hyuga heir had not agreed to any suggested betrothal, despite being nagged constantly and presented with distant relative after distant relative over the years.

Despite how weak and decidedly frail her body was, his brother had brushed off every objections and concern that the Elders had voiced about the unlikelihood of an heir. His brother had been fairly stubborn about his choice—that the woman he had in mind was capable of producing a child as healthy and robust as the boy that his brother had. Strangely, nobody, lest of all the Hyuga heir, had raised objections about the lack of interaction. The entire marriage had been arranged on the premise that such trivial matters were not worth considering, and that the bride would not refuse the proposal that the Elders imposed on her.

Thinking about the past and looking at the woman before him, he might have laughed aloud now. How strange it was, he thought, that they'd all been connected in this way. As an Academy student that was seven years his junior, she'd tried to keep up as best as she could. She always fell behind, but they'd still linked pinkies and sworn to be there for each other when either of them was in a pinch.

Perhaps, she was just as aware of the present irony as he was.

"So it's come to this, has it?" His voice was a mutter, but he ended his words with a tired little laugh. He noted the strip of cloth that she'd brought with her. To mask the tattoo for later, he supposed.

His sister-in-law bowed her head even lower. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. It was barely heard, even in the stagnant air of the room. "I was instructed to bring this in." She shook her head, and a strand of her dark hair slipped from its smooth knot, framing her pale face as she looked up slightly. "I was afraid to at first. But I agreed to administer it— in the hopes that I could see you and convince you not to do this. It was unlikely for us to speak otherwise. We haven't, for all these years." She cast her eyes downwards once more, mouth quivering. "But please, if you'll listen to me just this once— don't do this. There has to be another way."

He sat there, looking as if he was meditating still. But he had not quite cast off the worldly thoughts yet. He had thought about his wife in these few hours. She had known better than to plead, even if she'd turned paler than she already was. She'd simply bit her lip, nodded, and accepted his fate—all of their fates.

This woman though, had begun to weep. Silently, her delicate frame began to shake and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Unlike his wife, this woman had not been present when he'd stepped up and said what he had. Unlike this woman, his wife had not turned away or broken down. Rather, when the various Elders and important members of the Clan had filed out one by one, she had as well too. She'd had affairs to put in order—the preparation of the funeral that was to come, the adjustments to her life and their son's thereafter; the financial realignments once her husband had passed on.

They'd said nothing to each other about the approaching hour; not even when she'd served him some tea. He'd accepted that and the slight brush of her hand against his before he'd left to sit here in the hall. No bitterness, no tears, no final words, no promises, nothing. In some ways, he knew that neither of them needed that to understand and to deal with the matters at hand. That was the dignity that he'd come to appreciate about his wife, especially in these moments when she proved to be strong enough for all of them. He had learnt to understand her silence and somewhat stiff manners; loved her because she was his wife and the mother of his boy.

In contrast, he was glad that the woman before him had not been present at the meeting. It wasn't that she was prone to a lapse in her control of emotions. It was just that she could not quite hide her grief, and it would possibly have crippled him to have seen it. Even now, it took a great deal of resolve not to reach out or to say anything to comfort her.

"Please don't do this." She said again. She circled one shoulder with the hand that he'd shifted away from the vial, as if pressing a shoulder wound to stop it from bleeding. A defense mechanism, he realized, to stop her shoulders from shaking.

If she been present when the decision was made, would she have cried out in place of his wife, or protested as vehemently as her husband had? Or would she have wept there and then and begged on her knees? She was not cold and proud like his wife—she had never been able to grow out of and cast off that child-like mantle that had intrigued him for a long time. "You can't. Please don't."

A tiny crease worked its way between his eyes, and he shook his head. "Think of the clan's interests, Hinako. Or Konoha's for that matter. We can't afford a war."

She flinched at the use of her name. It was just as well, he decided. There wouldn't be very much longer to use it, and what were strict formalities and grand titles when one considered the way that they'd shared their childhoods?

From where he sat, he reached to her chin and lifted it gently. Her eyes were swollen and her lips pale, but even then, he could see why the seal had been branded on the back of her neck rather than across her forehead. It would have been a waste, as one of the Elders had said. Certainly, she had blossomed over the years and had subsequently become an obvious choice as the bride for the current head of the Hyuga Clan.

"I do not feel unhappy." He told her. "On the contrary, I feel that my existence and that my role is justified. I would give my life to ensure my brother's safety, even if it had not been asked of me."

"Think of Haruka," She said tremblingly. "And Neji is but four—a mere child!"

"He is no more a child than your girl." He told her. "Haruka is strong enough—she is a woman that both Neji and I are proud of. And at the very least, I know that my brother will ensure that my child grows up. My boy will learn how to protect himself," He looked at her smilingly. "As well as those who are dear to him."

He looked around at the portraits. The faces seemed to be less harsh than when he'd gazed up at those as a child, standing some distance behind his brother. He smiled at his ancestors now, sighing a little. "Come now. I will require your assistance."

She straightened, inching a little closer while still on her knees. Wiping her tears away with her sleeve, he saw determination flash in her eyes. "I will take care of your child as if he were mine. And Haruka—I will not let her suffer."

"Of course." He said quietly. "As we promised, when we were children. We are friends and members of the same clan, are we not? You will keep your promise. As will my brother, who sent you to administer this to me." He picked up the vial, uncorking it deftly. "He of all people, I expect, understood that I would rather have you and nobody else deliver this to me."

Her hand moved to her mouth once more. It had been her habit since the old days, when she was frightened or upset. He tipped the vial against his lips, nodding a little. "Tasteless, I see. You were always skilled."

She looked stricken, but he smiled comfortingly at her. "I thank Hiashi for looking after you and the members of this clan."

As his vision blurred and he leaned back, he saw her lips form a silent cry, and he felt her hands catch and hold him.

He felt no pain or remorse, but sensed that he'd clutched hold of something quite unconsciously. Granted, he felt only the slightest caress of her long, jet hair as it fell against her face and swept against his outstretched hands. Nor did he really see the pin that he'd dislodged clattering to the wooden tiles. By that time, a searing, white pain had erupted and a film of snow washed over his vision.

But he heard his name from afar and willingly closed his eyes, thoroughly exhausted but fully at peace.

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**A/N: So that's it for the first chapter of my first Naruto piece! Hope you enjoyed it and look out for the developments- do review please, I will most certainly read, re-read, appreciate and treasure every one!  
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	2. Children

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of _Naruto_. R&R please.**

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**A/N: Hey to all the readers/reviewers, it's been really encouraging to have readers writing such lovely reviews and reading this even though Fanfic error 2 won't let me put in character filters. That said, I managed to upload a new chapter and I hope that you'll like this. As a point of clarification, this story won't really be chronological, although as far as possible, it will flow with the same timelines and given events as the _Naruto_ plot so far.**

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**Chapter 2: Children**

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I.

His hand had made contact. Around them, the spilt mochi peppered the floor, and the powdered sugar was already melting in the afternoon heat.

"N-Neji-nii—,"Hinata looked up from where she'd fallen. Her voice was ragged, shriveled with apprehension. She had started stammering recently in these months, and it had been worsening lately.

These days, it took only a hard stare or perhaps a tilt of his head away, or at the most, a few cutting words these days. If they met at all.

Certainly, their encounters had been few and far between since the funeral, but their attendants had encouraged that. Even if the Hyuga estate was no longer under lock-down, the general atmosphere was cautious and each child had been instructed not to go anywhere near the four gates of the estate at all. They were to stay within it; to amuse themselves howsoever. Hinata's attendants, in particular, had been ordered to be doubly careful. The Hyuga clan could not afford another mistake now.

For Neji, he had stopped visiting the North gardens, where they would have once been allowed to go traipsing through the greenery and dipping their feet into shallow pools. Upon doing this, he had found no other playmates in the estate—none that he had particularly enjoyed being with, anyway. Most unbearable though, was the carefully vague, mostly irrelevant questions his attendants asked in response to those that he'd asked. Within a week, he'd come to prefer the trees' silence than that of those around him. He didn't wish to see anyone. There was nobody he wanted to meet. Not even her. Especially not her.

Now, Hinata's eyes flickered up timidly to his forehead, where he'd recently begun wearing a headband. It was a different gaze from what she'd used before. Whereby she'd looked at it in wonder just hours after he'd received it, she looked at it with a growing confusion now.

Perhaps, Neji thought, she'd been lied to as well.

His father had sat him down on one afternoon and explained to him that each clan member that had this tattoo was bound to the main family—to the heir of the day, in particular. Hinata-sama, as Neji had been made to understood, was the current heir and the cousin that he would have to protect.

"Does it hurt?" Hinata had asked softly on one afternoon when they'd played together by the stream.

Standing before him with their feet light over the cool, wet pebbles, she had lifted her hand slowly. Instinctively, he'd bent slightly to minimize their slight height difference, letting her trace the lines gently.

As she'd traced the thin, green marks etched there, he'd felt joy and satisfaction rush through him at that point. If it linked them both, Neji had thought then, he didn't really mind having the tattoo. It didn't really hurt; not really— not after the initial hours of the strange, tingling flare on his skin.

"No," He'd told his younger cousin staunchly, conveniently leaving out the part when he'd lain in bed, unable to stand. "I'm proud to be a Hyuga."

Once, she must have thought that he'd particularly liked sweets. Once, he hadn't seen the real purpose of the tattoo. Once, Neji hadn't known anything. Once, he'd had his father to tell him stories and provide the sugar gloss for the truth behind the caged bird symbol.

Once, Neji had believed. But he was growing up, he told himself fiercely. He would not be taken in so easily anymore. Nor would he have cried, even if he had fallen. Where he had once been upset that the other children had laughed when Hinata had tripped and fell, he looked at her unkindly now, willing the tears in her eyes to fall so that he would have a reason to laugh.

"T-The sweets—,"

Still lying on the floor and scrambling to get up, she grappled with one crushed treat lying near her. But he did not wait—he kicked the lacquered box, sending it into the air and back to the ground as it clattered, hollow and disruptive in the air.

This, he thought, would be the final time that she would venture to this halve of the estate, bringing any treat of any sort. He should have felt satisfaction—he thought he would have.

But her huge eyes were watering now, and despite himself, he felt the tears prick at his own. Angrily, he looked away from her but saw the full extent of the pink and white radius instead.

He'd eaten greedily the last time they'd shared a box of these treats. He didn't particularly like sweets, but his appetite had been sharpened by the hours of hide-and-seek that they'd played in the gardens surrounding the North training hall. The success of finally discovering her had seemed to be complimented by the floury sweetness of the mochi that her mother had given her to share.

That afternoon, it had seemed that even the constant nagging presence of Hinata's attendants in the distance would not ruin anything. Sitting by his younger cousin's side when the game had ended, Neji had savoured the sweets, flushed with happiness from having found her after half-an-hour of increasingly frantic searching. Hinata was so tiny that it had been easy for him to miss her curled form as he'd scanned the bushes, and he must have had been careless. Of course, he had agreed not to use his Sight. She hadn't really started learning how to activate the Byakugan yet, although she'd confided in him that she sometimes experienced flashes of vision far beyond what was before her. It had frightened her.

"You will learn how to control it soon," He'd assured her. "I'm a year older than you, so of course I can use it." At that time, he'd scarcely thought of telling her that he had begun to actively control the Byakugan when he'd been at her age.

For every bite that they'd taken, they'd learnt more about each other—she'd told him that she liked the colour blue, and he'd revealed his preference for the jade tones of the gardens that his father and he took walks in. She'd whispered to him that she was afraid of big dogs and he declared in turn that he would chase those away for her.

"Cats too—I hate cats!'

Within an hour, the entire box had been finished between them and they'd also discovered a common dislike for the bitter-root supplements the servants brought them in the evenings. Those were purportedly expensive as their various attendants had claimed, but Neji and Hinata had agreed that the broths were awful to taste, hours of careful brewing or not.

When his attendant turned up to reminded him to return to the West compound for dinner, he'd expressed a little regret. But before she'd been pulled along by her maids too, Hinata had promised to go with him to explore the gardens surrounding the main ceremonial hall between both halves of the estate.

"It's a promise," She'd called shyly, her hand tight in one of the maids' as she was hurried along.

It had been but a month ago—

Even the colourful kites that Neji had once liked finding near the West compound were not enough to lift his spirits on these days. On the contrary, he mostly wished that he would be propelled by the wayward winds from outside the estate, swept away as a kite would be. But to where? He didn't know—he hadn't really left the estate before; not without his father and at least two other attendants.

On the ground before him, Hinata coughed pathetically, too stricken and too weak to get up. Too late, he remembered that she was still weak from the viral flu that she had only just recovered from. She must have sneaked over from the East compound, bringing a box of the sweets that she had most probably snitched from the kitchens. Surely, she had been told that she could not enter the West compound without an attendant.

He scanned around. No maids were in sight—were they already looking for her? Would they send the signal in their alarm, only to find Hinata here on the floorboards outside Neji's room?

His eyes lingered on her darkened cheek. It wasn't—couldn't be— a bruise. If it was a bruise, it would take a few days to fade from that soft, white skin. He'd once fallen—cried a little too, in fact. But that was changing. He would not cry now. No more.

He looked away from her. He would not feel sorry for her. The dirt on her cheek would be washed off easily. At least, Neji told himself that now. It was dirt. It had to be dirt. He had shoved her—but he hadn't hit her cheek. It wasn't what he'd hit—if he'd hit something at all. He hadn't. He couldn't have. He hadn't wanted to. Hadn't meant to.

The soft, powdered sweets lay on the wooden boards next to her, and his sandal came down mercilessly on the one nearest to his foot. Like a poisonous spider, it was crushed, its innards spilling thick maroon and the strawberry within it oozing sickly and sweetly on the wood.

Hinata cried out when he did this, and he tightened his mouth and steeled his resolve, kicking at another where it spun off into the distance. He hadn't been quite sure if she had cried out for fear that the wooden heel would hit her where she'd fallen, or whether the sight of the sweets being wasted had been worse.

Either way, he quelled the shout rising in him, then turned and fled around the corner.

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II.

She deserved it, he told himself hours later, still reeling from what had happened.

In the privacy of his quarters, he sat in a corner of his room, too exhausted to take out the tatami and rest properly. For weeks now, he had not called the maids in to do this for him. As far as possible, he avoided them and vice versa. He would not rely on them any more—he had relied on his father and now his father was gone. He had learnt that lesson, at the very least.

He would not rely on his mother either. She was far too ill to visit his room and catch him neglecting his calligraphy exercises like this. Her head had been held so high at the funeral that she seemed to be one of those marionettes that Neji had seen at festivals, their limbs all stiff and thin, nearly-invisible strings pulling everything straight so that they could not bow or rest.

He hugged himself, curling up to feel more secure. She would not suspect that he was not applying himself in genuine efforts as he dashed off assignment after assignment— because she knew that he had no more toys left, she would think that he would definitely be practicing the characters that he'd learnt.

She'd collapsed a week after the funeral but refused to let a doctor visit her quarters. For that matter, she only left the room to offer incense in the main ceremonial hall—she ate without being seen and on most days, the maids removed the food trays with nearly everything still left on it.

"Must be afraid that there's poison laced in the tea and rice," One maid had whispered to the other.

His mother had refused to tell him what had happened, and nobody else spoke of the funeral once it was over. Not his Uncle, whom Neji had received nary a glance from throughout the ceremony and even after it. Not Higurashi, who had been tasked to train Neji even when his father had been around and had nonetheless continued after his father had died. Not the Elders from both the main and branch family—especially not them.

But he'd heard the maids telling stories. Now, the maids assigned to his mother would not bother him either—not when Neji had slapped one the other day. He'd burst in on a few of them gossiping while his mother had been asleep—he would not stand for it. But the one that he'd slapped had recovered from the shock of Neji bursting in and had made the other two hold him back.

"Sure, your father was the younger twin of the Hyuga head, but he's dead now." One of the maids had hissed. She had hit at Neji's left cheek, sneering. "We're only minor relatives and servants, but you're not exactly a little prince in the Hyuga hierarchy either—you're just a brat without a father!"

He'd broken free, a wild, screaming animal clawing at her throat. Nonsense syllables, broken sentences and the worst language that he could possibly summon flowed from his lips. It had woken his mother and made her get up from her bed—but not before he'd taught them all a lesson.

The maids would not bother him now. Not even after his mother had left a stinging mark on his face and forced him to apologize. She'd spat, "We are above the minor relatives of this clan; we do not stoop to pettiness!"

That very day, Neji had visited the river that flowed through the estate. A wooden puzzle had lain unfinished in his room during the rites, but it had been subsequently gathered and carelessly thrown into the chest of other toys that Neji had earned from his father. He'd arranged the toys painstakingly and guarded the chest before, sharing those only with Hinata. But hours after the funeral, all his care had been directed to lining the chest with stones by the river banks and dropping it into the running water.

In the silence of his room, he thought of his cousin. He'd stooped to hit her today—he'd pushed her, sending her to the ground. In his mind, he could still see the dirt on her cheek. Or bruise. The thought frightened him now. If his Uncle found out, would Neji be sent rolling to the ground, clutching at his head as the tattoo burned, screaming without words?

Confined here, Neji hugged himself a little tighter, shivering. It was evening now, and it had been more than a few hours ago. Surely, his Uncle would have come to exact punishment if his cousin had said anything. He needed to calm down. But his heart was still pounding and his throat was dry from what he'd screamed at Hinata— the Lady Hinata; daughter of his father's elder twin and the current Hyuga heir that he was bound to by the tattoo on his forehead.

"I hate you!"

Curled up in this corner, his shadow was a strange, dark pool as the sun retreated beyond the paper-screen window. He told himself that he would have spat at her— that was the worse thing that anyone could do, wasn't it? That was what his father had once said. But Neji would have spat at Hinata. He would have hit her; crushed her small hand in his stronger one like the offerings she had come to him with. He would have. He really would have.

He told himself so.

His fists curled, and he found himself even more upset to realize how small his fists were. He despised her. The way he disliked cats. And pumpkins. No—worse than that. He had wanted to hit her. Had he hit her? He didn't know. He wanted to. Yes. He did. He would have. Had he? He didn't know. He—

And Neji buried his face and began to cry again. It shamed him. His father had once told him that crying would not solve anything—he was becoming a big boy and he would be a man one day. His father had said so, stooping to adjust the ends of the hair knot that he'd done for Neji. Men, his father said, needed to be strong. But Neji didn't know what else he could do now.

For weeks now, Neji had woken up screaming for the nights after that, dreaming of white squares that swallowed everything into gaping chasms. It was all the main family's fault. It was all Hinata's fault. He had given her what she deserved.

She had made him angry. She'd provoked him—she'd showed up, hadn't she? It had been her fault for being kidnapped—and she dared to come to this part of the Hyuga estate. She'd come, offering him sweets as a consolation— was that supposed to be an exchange? She had reminded him of the grief that had turned half of his mother's hairs white within a week of the funeral. It had been a funeral without a body, even if Neji had seen the white cloth stretched over, masking his father's face.

If it had been his hand that had left the mark on her cheek, she deserved it. He repeated it to himself silently, hatefully, intently, until her name's syllables were slurred with his tears.

But in his mind, the gentle colours of the sweets could not be as glaring and hateful as he'd imagined them to be then. Even in the silence of his room, he recalled her stammering voice once more and knew that he had not meant to turn upon her.

* * *

III.

"You're not working hard enough, boy!"

Neji stood at edge of the West training hall, trying to catch his breath. His body was aching, and he half-wished that it would end. Not yet however—the lesson in the West training hall would continue for at least ten more minutes.

"Adjust your posture," Higurashi told him. A stooped, old man, he was still formidable. Even in his father's time, this man was in charge of training the branch members' children, and Neji was just one of at least ten in this current generation. "Regulate your breathing, boy, you're spending too much energy over nothing. The noble arts of this clan are not for you to butcher, boy."

While Neji did not pay much attention to Higurashi except when the old man was acting in his capacity as a tutor, he had learnt well and was more than a competent pupil. It rather bruised Neji's pride that Higurashi did not even consider using Neji's name at all.

"My name," Neji said tightly, still maintaining his Jyuuken posture, "Is Neji."

Higurashi gave him an unimpressed stare, never mind that Neji had finally given into the urge to be impertinent after all these years of tolerance and deference to his grand-uncle. The head of the West household, Higurashi was basically concerned with nearly every mundane thing from controlling the branch members' finances to imposing curfews and ensuring that the young ones learnt to be polite to their elders. Perhaps, that had given him his prickly, matter-of-factly demeanor that he used on Neji now.

"I am aware of your name. Now, adjust your arm space, boy. When you're enrolled in the Academy next year, you'll thank me. On bent knee."

Fighting back what was truly in his mind, Neji did as instructed. And he went over the sequence once more, keeping his breathing in sync with his movements. The result of course, was far better than what he'd achieved before hand. He could see—See.

Everything had become clear; he would not falter again. He would not take anything at face-value ever again. Every moment had a greater purpose, every action a result that was intended, and everything imbued with a meaning that was part of one's fate. He was working towards his own.

With that, he charged. His tutor only dodged in time, kicking once as Neji ducked too. Both retreated in mirrored leaps, increasing the distance between them. But Neji struck again—he had trained these past few weeks to increase his speed. Even if he wasn't as tall as this stooped old man yet, he knew how to use the relative lightness of his body. It was with great difficulty that Higurashi blocked the attack with his outstretched palm, and Neji would have tried again, had his tutor not raised that palm to cease their exercise.

"Good." His tutor said in satisfaction. "Don't stiffen your arms too much." He relaxed out of his own stance and straightened his hunched back, nodding once. "You will grow taller yet, boy, and when you do, remember today's lesson. The centre of gravity must be constantly adjusted so that you remain rooted and yet agile."

Neji knew that he had been growing taller. Just the other day, a few of the other Clan members had remarked so. He could sense it himself—he'd grown out of his old robes and Higurashi had had to issue him new ones. Had his mother been here, she would have been in charge of that but—

He disrupted his thoughts. It was far too dangerous to think of those things—there was no point thinking of her fate as a woman of the Hyuga clan.

His teacher was studying him carefully. "When you enter the Academy, boy, you will have to work even harder. You will do even better than how you are performing now."

This was rare praise, although it made Neji frown. He moved after his tutor, not willing to run and to show over-enthusiasm, but still unsatisfied with the lack of detail. His tutor however, was moving swiftly out of the training hall, clearly signaling the end of the lesson.

"Better than what?" Neji demanded. "Better than the Hyuga brethren of my age? Better than Hinata-sama?"

His tutor surprised him by whirling around and fixing him with a stare. Granted, Neji thought, his tutor did not train the main family members' children, let alone the Hyuga heir, but he had seen Higurashi leaving for the main ceremonial hall the day before. As one of the Clan Elders, he had to attend fortnightly meetings, and Neji was aware that the Hyuga heir's performance had been discussed. He had seen Higurashi in heated conversation with another Elder as he'd passed by yesterday, and caught portions of it before they'd turned a corner.

"She isn't progressing as well as her father expected—,"

"Her body is weak—like her mother's—,"

Neji had not heard enough to surmise what her progress had been overall—the conversation had been vague, if anything. As a matter of fact, it had been nearly three months that he'd gone without catching even a glimpse of the Hyuga heir. He'd last seen her during her fifth birthday celebration, when he'd been forced to attend with the other members of the clan and to present their blessings to her.

It had been quiet and without much fanfare overall, and she'd seemed to hide behind her father, barely looking at anyone. Certainly not Neji, who had not spoken to a complete sentence to her for a long time. Not since the afternoon when she'd appeared outside his room to offer him sweets. His birthday wish to her had been a curt, overall terse, "Congratulations."

She'd nodded, looking tiny and huddled in the ceremonial robes, her face too small for her wide, uncertain eyes. "T-Thank you."

So she was still stammering then, he'd thought. Scorn and dislike had risen in him, and he'd turned away before it would manifest itself. She did not deserve even that. One did not crush the tiny insects and wriggling worms that were brought in from the torrential rains—those were already weak and beneath one. One did not have to do more than to walk away and leave them to struggle. Crushing them would have been too simple overall.

Yet strangely, he was actually interested to know how she was faring with her lessons. The last he could recall, she had struggled with footwork—struggled to find the points to hit at, despite her father's growing impatience.

Looking at his toughened, age-wizened tutor, Neji wondered what they'd said about Hinata. His tutor however, seemed unlikely to reveal anything at all.

"This is unbecoming behaviour." Higurashi said coolly. His eyes regarded Neji disapprovingly. "You will concentrate on your own performance and set your standards to your own expectations. To do otherwise would be foolish for you, Neji. If you must know, I have high expectations of you, and expect a stellar performance in the Academy."

Neji had heard the others talking about him, complaining that they'd been sent for general Shinobi training at the Academy whereas Higurashi had personally trained Neji for a whole year so that he could bypass whatever they were going through in school.

But the unhappiness rose in him now. "I will be entering a year later than the others of my age."

"Granted, I have failed a few of your peers and made them repeat a year of our Clan's training. I do not want them to enter the Academy and disgrace the Clan's name." Higurashi said sternly. "But the training that you have received over this year of your deferred enrolment is not because you are incompetent, boy. With my written recommendation, you will join those of your batch and outdo them, year ahead or not! If anything, the additional training will put you paces before the others who have already entered. You have the potential to be the best of them all."

As his tutor moved out of the training hall, Neji stared, not following.

He would not go just yet, he decided. He would stay here to train a little longer. He would be enrolled soon, and he did not want to enter and have to eat the dust of those from other clans or worse—those from no clan at all. He began to ease his body into the posture—he had to train more.

At the very least, Neji told himself, it would be a step towards guaranteeing that he was far ahead of everyone else here— Hota, Haru, Hachirou, and all the others around Neji's age. Even Hanatsu, who was two years older and had been openly praised by Higurashi recently. Even Ko, who'd demonstrated for them recently and had been nothing short of perfect in his footwork.

Step by step, Neji would ensure that they were left trailing after him, age-difference or not.

Including and especially her.

* * *

IV.

His breath rose in tiny cotton puffs, but the loose-fitting jacket he wore countered the cold morning air quite nicely. Hidden here in the trees, he crouched low, making sure not to have his traces detected.

He hadn't expected anybody to be here—not this early, anyway.

The forest-areas in Konoha were regularly torn down and re-created, thanks to the training that the shinobi engaged in. The rate of destruction and renewal was incredible, but it was precisely this balance that ensured the lush greenery that Neji ventured to for his training.

Not this morning, however. He had stopped by the small waterfall, but hadn't thought to activate his Sight and to check for any presence here. Yet, it was immediately obvious that someone was training in the water. Of all people, he hadn't expected it to be her.

They had met in these few weeks. Chance encounters and little more than that really, when she'd left the estate to go on missions or when he'd visited the East compound at her father's invitation to train together. He'd caught glimpses of her at best—a quick nod from him; a hesitant acknowledgement with that somewhat familiar half-smile on her part. Barely a real moment of holding the gaze—few words exchanged, overall. That awkwardness was still there, although it had changed slightly from that of the past.

Granted, things had changed somewhat since the aftermath of Konoha's invasion and the nearly-successful abduction during that time. Not just the bonds that were slowly but surely being mended—not just the way he had looked at the world.

Beyond him, she was moving quickly, spinning fast and creating whorls of water that shielded her. He stared from behind the trees, wondering if she would sense him at some point. But without the pressure of the scrutiny, she continued to work at building up the water's momentum and increasing her speed, placing her palms accurately in a manner that compensated for her lack of physical force. She had learnt—she had developed a style that made the most of her strengths and as far as Neji could surmise, accentuated them.

Had she trained here as soon as she'd recovered from her injuries that she'd sustained in the Chuunin exam? And had she done so in secret, where she would push herself even harder than those who'd trained her had before? He thought of the moments when she'd quietly set down tea for her father and him, leaving as carefully as she'd come so as not to interrupt them. Had she watched them honing the kaiten and incorporated that into this?

Even now, as he stared, he wasn't quite sure what to think.

At this range, he did not require the extended vision to peer between the branches now, and he parted those quietly. He moved closer. His eyes located her quickly, for the orb of water suspending over the currents gleamed as a crystal sphere in the faint light.

Almost immediately, he regretted it.

She had assumed privacy almost as completely as he had, and she had folded her jacket and similar articles of clothing securely on the rocks. Her form, small, delicate, but flexible and effortless, seemed to whistle thin and meld as liquid with the air. He hadn't expected such grace—not to the extent of this perfection. He averted his eyes instinctively—the thin robe that she wore clung to her clear, pale skin, and he felt warmth creep up his neck and cheeks.

A week ago, they'd near slammed into each other but had exchanged less than a sentence. He had been prepared to start a conversation; prepared to make the most of their almost-collision. He'd wanted to ask her about the increasing number of bandages under her sleeve; ask her if she'd recovered from the flu that she'd always seemed prone to catching.

But she'd spun on her heel, left almost eagerly with some vague excuse or another, and he'd only found out an hour later that she had gone on some tracking mission with Aburame Shino, Inuzuka Kiba, and Uzumaki Naruto.

Now, he had wondered if she'd learnt to avoid him at all costs over the years.

The afternoon after she'd returned from the mission that she'd had with her teammates and Naruto, her father had insisted that she sit with him and Neji to enjoy the tea that she had served silently but would not have otherwise dreamt of tasting. Perhaps, her father had begun to temper his expectations of his firstborn and had accepted her limitations and the way she had worked to overcome them. It had also been the first time in many years that the three of them had been in such proximity, although Neji had regretted the general lack of opportunity to inquire about her unsuccessful mission somewhat.

Perhaps, he decided, he would find a way to speak to her. Maybe, he would try when she returned to the estate later that day. Or perhaps, he would ask his uncle to allow him to train with her—that movement of hers was certainly a variation, or perhaps an entirely different thing. It was difficult to understand without her first explaining. Undoubtedly, it fascinated him, as did the determined way she repeated her footwork over and over again.

But a cry interrupted his thoughts.

She had slipped, perhaps because of a momentary lapse. For a technique that required such precision in a relentless environment, her penalty would be severe. Her yelp conveyed her pain, and even amidst the sound of rushing water pounding and eroding the rocks into smooth, grey slabs, Neji heard it.

In his alarm, he nearly shouted. He would have rushed forward, intent on helping her. But only just in time, he held himself back. He wasn't quite sure why he did so, but instinctively, he knew to stand at that distance and to watch her pick herself up. Her knee was bleeding badly—she would surely limp back to the estate. That is, if she would not go straight to meet her teammates for training.

Later, Neji promised himself, he would bring her some of the ointments that the training hall's medicine cupboards were stocked with. Perhaps, he would ask her about her training—about the movement that she had made, slight but powerful and with a nuance with the potential to parallel all that the best of the Hyugas had achieved. Perhaps, he would find the nerve to ask her if she'd avoided him on purpose that day and try to guess if she would ever speak to him again.

And Neji averted his eyes as she picked herself up carefully, soaked and even tinier from the water's beating down on her. He waited a little while, trying to calm his breathing, and then checked to see if she was alright.

No doubt, she had sustained similar injuries before. She had come prepared, from the look of it, and wrapped in a towel that she'd brought along, had begun bandaging her knee. She would not break, he realized suddenly. As a blade of grass against the torrents, she would bend double, but it would not be so easy to uproot her. He would not mistake her vulnerability as weakness—not anymore.

As he watched her settle against a rock, washing her wound in a wincing, brave silence, he wondered when she had first revealed the core of steel within her. Had it been in her refusal to forfeit the match with him, or had it been in her persistence despite how she could not possibly defeat him at that time? Had she held that core within her all this while, and had he been too blinded to see that? Or had it existed as an undefined potential that had been unlocked during the examination?

He closed his eyes, trying to shake away the thoughts of a fist leveled at him, crimson and dripping with her blood. All the same, it lingered in his mind with Naruto's angry promise, as did the vision of a shining, glimmering silhouette that whirled in the air and water. Her body had changed over the years—it was still slight and rather weak, but where his had become lankier and harder, hers hinted of promise and the river's flowing, sinuous banks.

He flushed again, but he was too afraid to retreat for fear that his footsteps would be heard on the twigs beneath his feet. He would not be ashamed, he told himself sternly. He was no silly, gaping boy that had nearly shot out of the first communal, mixed bath that he'd been inducted into on an Academy trip to the Onsen Town. He had not been spying on her, he told himself firmly. He had not been doing anything with wrongful intent of any sort.

But she'd seemed to be a river sprite, free and uninhibited, caught in a dance with the cool morning wind. He thought of her movements even later on— her slight frame, rotating on the tip of her toes and the way the light had caught and clung against her in the hundreds of water droplets against her skin. It had been her secret, but now it would be his.

For the rest of the day, he thought of her but found the memories of their early childhood blurred and far too distant, save the hateful ones. He found that even though he wanted to retrace the past, nothing stood out except her stammering, his satisfaction at outdoing her in everything he put his hand to, and strangely, a bruise that she'd once sustained on her cheek. It wasn't just any bruise—she had been too young then to be in the Academy or to suffer such an injury, unless she'd tripped by some fault of clumsiness.

Try as he did, Neji could not remember how she'd sustained it.

In the hospital that he and Tenten entered to visit Lee, he watched her try to minimize her limp as she insisted to her teammates that she was fine. The Inuzuka had brought her to the hospital against her protests, and the lobby that they waited in was the same one that he and Tenten passed through to get to Lee's room.

Her teammates had been so caught up arguing with her that they'd scarcely noticed another team moving past them. It seemed to Neji that Inuzuka Kiba in particular, was an inch away from breathing down Hinata's neck. The boy and his mutt were loud; yapping away in unison, really.

For no particular reason, Neji thought of the dislike that Kiba had been quite enthusiastic to reveal— 'I'm going on this rescue mission too, because someone like you won't do it seriously when it concerns Hinata!'

As if he was the only person who cared, really. Neji took in what he could as he crossed the waiting room, Tenten chattering away with words that he took in only partially. He watched as Hinata smiled bashfully up at Kiba; watched as Aburame Shino adjusted his dark glasses while Kiba began to colour at something Hinata said. It was too soft for Neji to hear—he had moved past to the point where he could not read her lips.

And while Kiba continued to insist that Hinata sit still and not make the injury worse, Neji felt a twinge of growing annoyance, although he could not place his finger on the exact reason.

He might have stopped to inquire about her new injury—he could have, now that they were on somewhat familiar terms and possibly even on speaking ones. But he hadn't. Instead, he'd bit his tongue for control, trying to fight back the questions in his mind as to how they'd grown up so distanced.

For the days and years to follow, he was plagued by the gaps in his memory. There were gaps that suggested that he'd once spent time with her and that he'd yearned to cross the threshold of the West compound to find her in the North gardens. There were gaps that made him wonder what he had thought of her in the past, before that little happiness had been tainted and ruined so completely that he could not recall what it had been like. Gaps, he realized, that now made him yearn to know what he had made himself forget in the first place.

And in his silence, he asked question after question. He asked why his mother had never said anything, why the Elders had been so selfish, why he had not seen the truth in the past and why it had taken someone like Uzumaki Naruto to show him.

But of all these questions, he was most plagued by why he'd decided that amongst all the main family members, it had been her that he'd wanted to put at such a distance.


	3. Head

**Diclaimer: I own nothing of _Naruto_. R&R please.**

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**A/N: The reviews have been read, re-read and loved, every single one of them with their words of encouragement, concerns and suggestions. Thank you so much for writing these, and I hope you'll continue for my sake. It's like fuel for a writer's soul, really, and I appreciate the efforts- all of them!  
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**Chapter 3: Head**

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I.

He'd arranged for the two girls to be pitted against each other.

One had flowing hair that streamed against her while she attacked. The other, more defensive and far less confident, was trying with increasing desperation to gain a foothold.

The younger one was five years younger, but she had a queer fierceness that was beyond her years. It served her well, particularly because a little nerve and guts never put a young kunoichi in a less advantageous position. She was not as experienced or as polished in certain steps, but she had no qualms about attacking—over and over and over again.

But the elder was far too much like her mother. Those bangs were nearly identical to those that her mother had once worn before she'd given birth to their first child. Perhaps, Hyuga Hiashi thought now, it was only mere sentiment that had made him tolerate those impractical bangs. That soft fringe on Hinako's forehead had once intrigued him and made him wonder if there was the cursed mark hiding under those before he'd realized that it was on the back of her neck.

As one daughter leaped, slashing and hissing, the other tried to block the onslaught of attacks. The one defending was strong enough, but everything about her stance was weak and too giving and far too kind. It was all too familiar, this dance of give-and-take—this hesitation on one side and a mindless aggression from the other side. It made him feel ill, this unconscious pacification of one side to the other more offensive side. It reminded him of their mother.

Just days after he had fully recovered and she had stopped visiting the East compound to tend to his injuries, he had sent for her to train with him. It was a strange request, for he usually sparred only with Hizashi or before that, their father. Anyone else would have been a waste of his time, but he had been intent on finding out her name even if she had no more reason to visit to tend to him. He had asked for a simple training session; and he'd asked specifically for Hinako. If the manservant had thought anything of his request, he did not comment on it.

She had arrived to spar with him that day, keeping her eyes lowered and saying nothing to him, but he found her awkwardness thrilling. For too long, he had been used to women with sardonic tilts of their lips, able colleagues who were capable of making their own pursuits and jaded with being accomplished in most of them. For too long, he had viewed the Hyuga women of his age as impositions as they had been increasingly introduced to him over the recent years. And when he had asked for her to spar with him, he was more eager than he'd expected.

When he'd attacked, she had been the one defending, and she barely fought off any of his attacks. But he had been far too intent on winning, far too intent on finding the vitals areas to strike at, and he had forgotten it was just a simple spar. He had thrown his entire will into that single exercise, for he was used to aggression and firmness as the head-to-be. And he had pushed her to respond, desperately trying to corner her, trying to prove something without even knowing what he had to.

When he had finally pinned her down, panting and triumphant with his victory, he had seen her waiting, watching him, showing her submissiveness and that particular brand of indulgence towards him. Had they sparred, his younger brother would have still fought on, and even other lesser competitors would have attempted to turn the tables on the apparent match.

But she had laid there, eyes averted from his, hair tumbling in a dark fan, undone from its knot when he'd slammed her to the floor, a drop of sweat on her cheek from where his forehead had come too close to her face. He had seen, not for the first time, how young and desirable she was, and how intelligent she was even though her meekness would never let her use it for anything particularly cunning. And he thought of his younger brother, who he'd seen walking alongside this young woman and talking animatedly to her. Of all things, he thought of his younger brother, who would have probably fought him at any opportunity, bent on proving himself if only in a simple sparring session.

Too late, he had realized that she had never intended to spar with him seriously, let alone attempt to score a victory against him. And he'd suddenly seen, even with the deactivation of his Sight, that he had been the one kneeling, while she had leisurely stared at the ceiling, as if counting stars. It had made him hiss and roll away, insulted by her. He had left without a word, feeling somehow spurned, and yet, he had been filled with want.

That very day, he had called the Elders together and demanded that a betrothal was arranged. They were glad, and they made suggestions. But he made his, and they objected. That girl was far too weak, they said. Her worldview, unlike his, was limited, for she was but sixteen and he was twenty-three and entering a prime period. She had only barely passed the Chunin examination—rare and a little late for those of her age group, let alone amongst the Hyuga clan members. She was strong in will, they conceded, but that body simply could not take the strain of being a shinobi, and the Elders had argued that it was unlikely for her to successfully conceive and deliver a healthy heir.

No other would do, he told them.

The thought of his late wife made him angry now, and he folded his arms, frowning. He had not wanted to think of her or to hear echoes of her voice and smile in the first daughter—such emotions were unnecessary for the Hyuga Head.

She had been a weak woman, he told himself, and she had passed on those weaknesses to their first child. Besides that, she had showed too much open affection to the first child; she'd allowed Hinata to visit her quarters for hours and had sung lullabies to the child. At one point, he had watched from across the ponds, listening to her lilting voice in the night air, and he had felt a hot flush of compassion and love for his wife and the girl. But it was a small mercy, Hiashi told himself now, that their second child was nothing like her mother.

The first daughter though, was far too much like her mother. Her slight clumsiness was not as apparent when she was put into a match like this, but she was too hesitant; too half-hearted about the strikes, too afraid to aim near the heart or the throat or the vitals. She did not want to harm—not the younger sister that she had looked after and loved for their mother when the latter had passed away. He'd seen her rock the younger sister to sleep, singing familiar lullabies even if she didn't know all of the words. Even if the first daughter had wanted to harm her younger sister, she would be unlikely to really know how to.

As Hinata ran, panting and trying to dodge the palms that her sister sent flying towards her neck and chest, Hizashi frowned deeply.

There it was again—the memory of a smiling, classically beautiful woman floating back into his mind. It hung in the halls as a painting, and the image and the elder girl's resemblance to her mother haunted him each time.

Some distance away, the younger daughter made a savage cry—an animal. She was precisely what the Clan needed in a Head, he thought. One who was confident, antagonistic if she had to be, and one who would not falter. She had known no mother, and perhaps it showed. It was just as well, he supposed, that he withheld the mark—the killing intent involved would have been impossible to ignore and to go unpunished had she worn the mark.

Certainly, Hiashi considered, the seals could be undone. A Head however, could not be marked at any point of his or her life and it was simply unheard of for a branch member to ascend to the Main family to become the Head. With the way that things were going, it would be foolish to put a weakling like the elder girl as the Head of the Hyuga Clan.

The elder daughter faltered, falling painfully. It was over within moments, as he had predicted. As her father, he could accept her weaknesses. As the Head, he could not. He watched her pathetic attempts to get up and restart the fight, but it proved too much for her and she was sent falling again.

He shook his head, turning to leave first.

He would not see one of his daughters darting past him, hot tears streaming wet and endless down her small, pale cheeks and that face—it resembled her mother's.

He would rather not.

* * *

II.

Her footsteps along this hallway were almost silent. Barefooted, Hinata was light but it was enough for the aged floorboards to creak a little. No doubt, Father would sense someone even before she entered.

She shivered. She had never really come in here without Mother, but that would never be possible again. She was afraid, but she wanted to see him. Father had not been feeling well recently—he needed his medicine.

"Father," She called softly.

And when she moved into his study quietly, she saw that Father was sitting in his usual spot. The room was large and done in the simple, rather subdued tones, and that was precisely why the space was frightening for Hinata. Often, Hinata had wondered whether Mother had liked leaving her quarters upon being sent for by her father. She thought about it for a bit, but it seemed to Hinata that her mother had simply complied and gently pulled away from Hinata each time the maids had appeared with instructions.

Mother's quarters hadn't been particularly large, but those were perpetually filled with flowers and warmth that Hinata had loved. When Mother had been alive, she had always begged her nurse to bring her to those quarters, and Mother had always taken her into an immediate embrace and kissed her cheeks.

Hinata had liked lying with her head against Mother's lap, and she had liked braiding Mother's hair. Mother was kind and pretty, and she had always rocked Hinata to sleep if Hinata came to her quarters and asked for it. Now that Mother was gone, with her things locked and stored, Hinata would not find anyone or anything in her quarters.

Father too, would not be able to see Mother again. He had ordered that her things were to be stored and her quarters locked up. He was very sad, Kiku had explained to Hinata, even if he could not cry like Hinata. But if there was anything of any consolation, Hanabi would not really feel as bad as Father or Hinata. She could barely remember Mother, because Mother had died when she had been only a year old.

Now, Father turned slightly as she came closer, but did not look at her. She wished he would. Despite how fierce and stern Father was, he had smiled and carried her in the past, and brought her out to see the streets.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned.

"I brought your medicine, Father." Her voice was tiny and nearly a squeak. She set down the tray with a vial, as well as tea and a spray of flowers that she'd arranged. She'd offered to take from the maid that she'd met along the way, hoping that she could pass Father what she'd arranged in ikebana during school. She hoped that Father would be pleased, even if he didn't seem particularly fond of flowers in general.

Yet, he seemed to be in a sterner mood than usual, and his cough had not improved since the time that she'd seen him at the memorial ceremony two weeks ago. She wanted him to get better—she wanted him to look at the flowers that she'd brought in and to smile at her, even if he would not laugh. She had never heard him laugh before, and she wished that he would now.

But Father did not get up from where he was meditating. Instead, he continued to look towards the window, staring at the lotus pond beyond it. This wasn't the only pond in the estate, but it made Hinata think that he liked the moon-white variety more than the balmy pink ones that the other ponds had. This particular pond beyond his study had no other lotus blooms except the white ones. That was the thing about Father—Mother had laughed and loved the little colourful drawings that Hinata had given her. But Father did not seem to like colours much, because Hinata had heard him order Kiku the maid to remove the stray, pink buds from the pond facing his window.

Once, Hinata had stolen into the study and looked through that circular window. From that window, she'd seen Mother stooping to gather fresh buds from the edge of the large pond and her father waiting silently, some distance away. When Mother had turned to him, her fingertips were wet and her was expression blocked by the sunlight, and Hinata had not been able to see if Father had been smiling or not.

Father always rested here in his study, near the single window. For sure, the lotus pond was pretty, and Hinata had not seen anything quite as nice. This pond, out of the others, seemed to be the nicest. But now, Hinata wondered if Father was looking at the pond simply because he was angry at her.

When Father had still cared enough to scold her about her slow progress, he had told her of all that the past generations had done.

"Your Honorable Grandfather," He'd said, correcting her posture, "Could render a man unconscious with a single palm."

And Hinata had listened, the scolding not as harsh in her mind when the awe filled her. It was always the closest that Father had come to telling her a story, even if it was not bedtime at all.

But Father had stopped after Mother's death, and he did not remind her as frequently to straighten her back or to adjust her hand positions. He would not speak, even during their meals together, let alone on the days when the branch members were expected to report for certain ceremonies. He scarcely looked at her when the maids escorted her to his side.

But Kiku had said that Father, like Hinata and Kiku too, was saddened by Mother's death. That was why he was too tired to speak these days—too tired to really say anything. Hinata had understood a little better after what Kiku had explained, because she had cried for weeks and been quite inconsolable. Kiku had cried with her, hugging her close, for she had liked Mother too and said that Hinata looked like Mother when Mother had been Hinata's age.

Perhaps, Father was only doing what he could not to feel sad, Kiku had said, lest Mother saw from where she was and felt sad too. Hinata too, ought to try, and ought to be an obedient. Hinata had tried to fade into the background even more. She had also tried to offer her help to the kitchen maids, who would only shake their heads sadly and tell her that the eldest daughter could not possibly stoop to clean dishes. They did not want her around.

"Father," She said softly, taking out two pills the way that she had seen the maids and his manservant do. "The medicine is ready."

He made no attempt to look at her, although his tone suggested some disapproval. "Did you take this from Kiku?"

"Y-Yes." Kiku was another member of the branch family and she was an old woman. In fact, she was old enough to be Hinata's grandmother, as Mother had said. And it had puzzled Hinata, because Kiku was a maid that Father had put in charge of looking after Mother and Hinata and recently, Hanabi.

It was all rather confusing, but Mother had explained to her that the branch members were protectors of the main family. Some within that branch family served as maids and manservants, and the others guarded the Clan and the estate, and that too, depended on which part of the Clan that they belonged to.

"But aren't we all of the same Clan?" She'd asked Mother. Mother had only smiled and touched her cheek, saying nothing.

"It is a maid's duty and not yours." Father said now. He continued to look beyond the window, where the pure white buds dotted the murky water and reflected the faint sunlight. "You should be spending time on more important things."

"Yes, Father." She could not help hanging her head, feeling frightened. He had once bounced her on his lap, but he was often under the weather these days. Kiku said he was tired from the memorial—it had only been a year ago that Mother had died, and Father was still sad, like Hinata.

Hinata did not want to anger him. But it was too late, for she already had.

"Don't hang your head." He ordered. He had not even turned around.

"Y-yes, Father." She tried to raise it but found herself drooping even more. She had tried, but she could not break away from perpetually cautious ways and avoidance of eye contact.

For Hinata now, it was obvious that she had driven him to resent her. Already nearing seven, she'd heard some servants saying, and still struggling to master the basic footwork. But Hyuga Hizashi's child, they'd claimed, was already starting the intermediate steps of the tradition-steeped Hyuga arts. No—he'd discovered it for himself as a natural progression from what he'd learnt quite effortlessly.

It had made Hinata's eyes water, for she had wanted so badly to be good at her lessons. It had hurt, and she had hidden in her room, crying and wishing that Mother would be around to hold her.

"Weren't you supposed to be training?" Father began to cough, but stilled himself. "I asked Higurashi to take over from where I left off—has he been doing so?"

She flinched. Higurashi was not as stern as Father, but the way that he squinted and frowned was worse than Father barking out reminders in increasingly angered tones. "Yes, Father, I just finished a lesson."

"Then get back to practicing." His voice felt like a whiplash, even if he did not spare her a single glance. He could not hold back his cough, and it grew a little louder. Roughly, he pulled the rough-cotton jacket more tightly around himself—the simple white robes that he wore were not good enough for this crisp, cool morning.

"Y-Yes." She bowed, as she had often seen the maids and the others do. Even her own mother had bowed to her father, for he was the Hyuga Head. Everybody knew that.

When she left, he was still looking out of the window. The view of the pond, laced and woven with white flowers, seemed even vaster than what she could remember.

* * *

III.

As the Hyuga Head, his first gift to her was a set of white robes, embroidered with the Hyuga crest. A traditional item with simple presentation, a folded white square filled with the grave implications of her role to come.

She had taken it with bowed head and two hands, all in the presence of her parents who had looked at their youngest daughter, then at him, and then at Hizashi. They had the strangest expressions of anxiety and fear, but they could not refuse the Main House, let alone the new Head. Nor could she.

On balance, they were rather proud that the new Head had taken to Hinako. She had been a premature baby with a weak constitution; she would not have had a long career as a shinobi, and on the whole, it was better that she became the Lady of the house—she would have a longer life, they'd assumed. He'd assumed the same—he had been Head by then, and his word was the law of the Clan.

Hiashi had observed her over a very limited period of time, and mostly when he was weak, groggy, and probably delirious. But between his bouts of fever and the awful, floating hallucinations the poison caused, he had watched her. He had heard her sobbing when she'd first been sent to treat his wounds, asking some Elder why Hizashi had been poisoned so badly. She must have gotten confused, for he hadn't taken off his forehead protector yet. Certainly, his younger brother was close to certain people outside the Clan, but Hiashi had not expected anyone to be closer to Hizashi than him—not within the Clan, at least. In his less delirious moments and in the years after that, he'd alternated between envy towards the bond that they had, and torment when he wondered whether she loved Hizashi.

The West compound was where the other branch members were; branch members like her and those of even lower ranks than distant relatives to the Main members. Few were permitted within the East compound, save those with direct links to the main family like Hizashi, and as a result, Hiashi never quite got to meet her, whereas his younger brother had.

Somehow, even though she was only seventeen and too naïve for his tastes, Hiashi found himself attracted to her in the same way that he observed in Hizashi's consideration for her. In the weeks of his slow recovery, he learnt to recognize the slightly minty smell of her fingers from the medicine she applied, and a little later, he'd wondered if she would let him touch her lips if he asked to. He never did ask—he never had to, because he was the Head. She could not refuse him.

Nor did Hizashi protest. Despite or perhaps because of Hizashi's insecurities and his aggressive, competitive streak, he had achieved a fair measure of success as a shinobi—perhaps even more than his older brother. If Hizashi had been cool, distant and aloof as a teenager, with a habit of being sarcastic and cutting because he did not like being underestimated, he'd settled down and mellowed a little. By that time, Hizashi had been too tired to play the petty little games and the old power struggles, preferring instead, to accept what the Elders had planned for him.

He watched as Hizashi accepted Haruka when her name was brought up, watched as his younger twin went through the betrothal diligently, then got married and had his son. If Hizashi had been insistent and filled with indignation as a child, he had been weathered enough to know when not to fight against established rules that he had become governed by. And in that time, Hiashi guarded his bride jealously, made it nearly impossible for her to turn her attentions away from him and later, their first child.

And by that time, Hiashi had taken everything as the Head.

Giddy with what he felt that he'd earned and won, he had decided to dispense largess, and the plans for his wedding had been grand. In no way, Hiashi decided, would the marriage be a simple, quiet affair for the Elders to arrange and carry out as if they were all pawns. He was not like his Hizashi; he would not be passive and look upon his bride's visage only on their wedding. He was the new Hyuga Head, and she would receive the pomp that the lady of the house deserved.

He arranged to have her brought to the East compound the day after the betrothal gifts were echanged; even before the formal wedding. It was unprecedented—it would have set tongues within the estate aflutter, had he not been the Head. Truly, he had meant for her to get used to her new quarters and to have more opportunities to interact with her. But she avoided him generally, and he sensed that she was afraid of him whereas she was close to Hizashi – perhaps even closer than Hiashi himself.

She had only lived in her new East quarters for three weeks when the last of his self-control and pride had run dry. His visit had been the first of many, and even after their wedding, he had not been able to pass the lotus pond without thinking of the quarters adjacent to his. But even as the Head, he could not go against the rules of propriety and have her live in his quarters. As Head, he had wanted to effect change, to unite the halves of the Clan, to remove the unfairness of everything that had plagued him and Hizashi. But he forgot. It had been easy to.

She had not refused him on the first evening. What was the point, when she had already been pledged to him? He had taken advantage of that on the subsequent evenings and years, bringing her against him when he felt like it, exploring and holding that soft white body until he was satisfied. She had submitted, not really afraid but hesitant, and above all, unwilling to push him away or hurt him.

"You know, don't you?" He'd said the first time, kissing against that white neck and the timid hints of her hesitation and unwillingness as she shifted away a little. He'd held her close, looking into that face. "You'll be my bride soon."

He had liked to trace the lines at the back of her neck—those fascinated him even more than her soft lips and small hands and feet. Lovemaking had not really interested him before—he had been far too stoic and misogynistic to really enjoy those flighty pursuits of youth in some sense, but he had far more experience than her and had flaunted his knowledge.

She never thought much of why he always shifted her hair away to look at the mark. If she did, she did not show it, and a part of him wished that she would struggle. But she was thoughtful and considerate to a fault, bringing him tea and medicine and tidying up his study even when he insisted that the lady of the house ought not to be doing such things. It had made him guilty, because he had wondered if he would ever be able to give her as much as she had to him.

On some days, he had been overcome with passionate regret and held her tightly as they fell asleep. It had not and would not be his way to beg or to ask to be understood—he was the Head, and the Head could not do such a thing. But in his youth and behind the shoji, he had come as close as he'd ever would to appealing to her to let him hold her beyond her duty to.

She took it all in silence; his sometimes possessive ways towards her on the days when he refused to receive visits from his brother's family, or his almost-outpourings of anger that he showed behind the paper doors. Never a protest—not even when the old maids took their firstborn to a wet-nurse within an hour of the child's birth, as was the usual practice and supposed privilege to preserve the mistress of a noble house's youth and beauty. She had pleaded silently with her eyes, but she had not cried out or shown disobedience when he had ignored the way her gaze trailed painfully after the baby.

There was always that submission, always the dutiful passiveness when he insisted on his rights as the Hyuga head, and above all, the acceptance of the shaking of the Elders' heads, the pointed looks towards her by the Hyuga women of her age, and even his coldness towards her on the days when he wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing by insisting on having her at all costs.

When he had still been hopeful, inspiration had struck him and he had decided to build a bridge across the lotus pond, some weeks after the second year of their marriage. It would be a better gift than all the others, he'd decided, especially because he had taken it upon himself to build it personally.

At that time, he had been intent on winning her beyond the fact that she was already pledged and bound to him in name. For sure, she had not protested or appealed against his imposition to have her inducted into the Main family and his subsequent visits to her quarters, but that hadn't stopped him from wondering how to please her. For a long time, he had wanted to.

Just as well, he thought all those years later, that the bridge he'd taken it upon himself to build extended into the water rather than over it. Incomplete, its arched, slightly pale skeleton rose and eventually sagged into the depths of the lotus ponds. He'd meant to build it, board by board, extending from near his study window, over the water, to her quarters. But he'd never completed it and the structure remained strange and twisted amidst the snowy petals.

Their marriage had been a painful experience, filled with love that he could not express and the resulting frustration and growing fear that she had locked a part of herself away, just as she had in the first and last time that they sparred. He came close to hating her one day, when he had her lie against him as they looked out to the moonlight-washed lotus ponds. In her sleepiness, she'd smiled a little and told him that when she had been a child, Hizashi had presented her with a pink lotus, the kind that she liked the best- 'the only one in the pond, and he waded in the mud to get it without telling me.'

He became convinced that she loved him only because he was her husband and the Head, although he had nobody to admit it to. His confidante had been Hizashi as a child, but growing up, there had been no real person to share secrets with. There were very few that the Hyuga Heir could even speak to without the burden of those clan laws and traditions and that awful, awful tattoo coming between.

Love dyed all rivals, the familiar, the non-existent, the imaginary, the missing and the deficient, in the strangest hues of malice. It had made him question why Hizashi, who had been fifteen at the time of Hinako's story, had not used a simple technique to walk on water to fetch the pink lotus. It had made him wonder why she loved the lotus ponds so much, and why she did not just lower her eyes but look sideways whenever he took her face between his hands. In the days after his twin's death, he had wondered why she paid so much attention to the small, grave-faced boy that Hizashi had left behind. And on some rainy days, he held her back from visiting the boy's tired, stern mother, who often delegated the child to the maids and nannies to avoid staring into the resemblance of her late husband.

It had coloured his view, it stained his feelings towards her and his twin and nearly everybody else in the Clan. It had made him forget what he'd wanted as a child when Hizashi had woken up with bandages pressed to his marked forehead, and it was only much later that he saw that he had fallen short and used the Clan's dichotomy rather than remove it.

Framed by its charming bangs, her face had been instantly memorable and previous to him. He never managed to tell her how he thought they suited her, and how he loved the way that she could put him in a good mood by simply bringing him a sprig or two of the flowers that she grew. She stopped eventually after giving birth to Hanabi, unsure whether to continue and too ill by then to get out of bed in the morning. By that time, she had grown out her bangs, parting those to reveal that she had an umarred, white forehead all along. But he never removed the seal from her neck even in her last moments—never found enough courage to take the gamble.

It was a known fact that the curse seal could be undone—even if it was undone only by a secret set of seals that only the Main family members knew. The former Branch members who had moved into the Main family guarded that set of seals as well, if even more jealously. As a boy, he had decided to undo the marks on his twin's forehead—when he had the power and authority to do so. As a young man, competing with and trying to continue outdoing his younger twin, he had wanted to become a Head whose word would be more than new rules, but accepted, established law. But when he became the Head, he was far too afraid to lose them all to even think of letting go.

Even when she had passed away, the lines on her neck had gleamed bright. She had given him that wistful look before her eyes had sealed shut, and he had bitten down hard on his lip. He had subsequently found that during the memorials each year, he was prone to falling sick. He had loved her too much from the start, although those feelings had grown sharper and more intense and even more difficult to control in the years to come.

But for all his mistakes, there was always the next generation to carry out what he had once thought he could. He knew his children well enough to sense what they were capable of—especially, if surprisingly, Hinata. There was a way to unite what had been broken for a long time, he told himself.

There had to be.

* * *

IV.

It seemed to Hinata that she would always be slightly afraid of her father. She loved him, certainly, but that love had long been burdened and changed over the years. She respected him, for sure, but he was the Head and she wasn't sure that she would ever be able to view him as simply a father.

As she crept in, she thought that he would hear her. It was strictly prohibited for any member of the Clan to use their Sight in the compounds, but Father was the sort who could sense others very easily. It was what had saved her when she'd been a child, all those years ago.

But he appeared to be meditating, and he did not turn around. So when she slid the shoji shut, she bowed slightly while on her knees, shifting the tray forward slightly. She would have left it there, not wanting to disturb him, but Hinata was certain that she had to watch over him or he would not touch the brew at all.

"Father," She whispered. "It's time for your medicine."

He was sitting stiffly, still looking out from the window.

"Father," Hinata repeated, although in an even softer voice, "It's time—,"

"I'm not deaf." He said irritably. "And it is not your place to bring the medicine."

She bowed once more, hanging her head. "No, Father." But bravely, Hinata added, "But it is my concern."

He did turn around this time. And she heard him sigh as he got up and came towards her, forgoing the view of the lotus ponds. Those, as usual, had flourished over the past few weeks and plenty of blooms littered the surface of the water. When each winter came, Hinata wondered, did he have to contend with the uniform blanket of ice and snow instead of waxy, pristine petals?

She had no time to mull over what his real motivations for maintaining the pond were. He settled down, reaching out, and she poured the medicine into a bowl for him.

"Here." She offered. He took it with a slight nod—his thanks would extend to no more than that, because this was a minor duty for a maid, not even the reinstated heiress of the Hyuga Clan.

As she watched her father cooling the medicine with small, measured breaths, she thought that he had not diminished in all these years, even if the lines on his face had been etched deeper with time and stress. The wrinkle between his eyes had become permanent, but he stood proudly and firm still.

"Is Neji back from his mission yet?"

"No, Father." She mulled over it, counting the number of days that her cousin had left for the Hidden Mist village. He was so busy these days, even when the number of missions for him as an ANBU member had been scaled back to accommodate his new role as a council advisor. "He returns the day after tomorrow."

Her father narrowed his eyes a little. "It's been a long mission."

"Yes, Father, we have not trained together for nearly three weeks now." It puzzled her. As much as her father had come to view Neji as a trusted confidante over the years, her father generally did not interfere with Neji's business outside the Clan. He was undoubtedly proud of Neji even if he was careful not to show his preference towards his brother's child. But it remained that he would not allow anyone to have a single poor word against him, and Hinata had envied that a little for nearly her whole life. "If you would like to contact him, Father, I will send a hawk from the Kage tower later."

He began to say something, but held up a hand and coughed heavily.

She watched him quietly, wondering if he'd strained himself too much during training yesterday. Perhaps, she should have stuck to training with Hanabi. Or perhaps, she shouldn't have attacked him while he'd been distracted. "I'm sorry, Father, I shouldn't have aimed the blow towards your lungs."

He looked up briefly, holding the bowl, then made an annoyed expression. "I was about to commend you for your performance yesterday. You have left all the hesitation behind, which is precisely what the Jyuuken requires. And do not ever underestimate me—you have years to go before you can do that."

She had been waiting for admonishment, but her eyes widened in surprise now. Once, she had told herself that she would not care what the others thought of her anymore, as long as her teammates and Naruto acknowledged her. She had told herself that her worth was not hinged to her Clan's, let alone their resentment of her.

Perhaps while she had worked to make that a reality, those around her had started to look at her differently. Even her father had begun to take notice, and he had recently praised her to the Elders, as Ko had mentioned. Even if her father had not done it in front of Hinata, she found herself thrilled, and she had realized that she had always wanted to change herself and his opinion of her.

He however, did not say more. It was simply not part of his ways to praise openly or generously, although what he'd hinted at made her smile now.

"Thank you, Father."

He did not make any reply, but started drinking the dosage that she'd brought. Conveniently, the bowl hid his expression. If it was bitter, he did not show it any more than usual, although she suspected that he had been long used to such supplements over the years.

When he finished, he reached for a small cloth napkin and dabbed his mouth. But his eyes were appraising her, and she waited, quite sure that he would speak to her. Perhaps, it would be about the recent mission that she had been successful in. It had been the talk of the town for these past few days, and even Hinata could not help the swell of pride when she thought about what they'd accomplished.

Outside the window, some birds sang momentarily, and then fluttered off. The lotus buds gleamed, pure and brilliant in the afternoon sun, but the allure of the pond and its pebbled expanse did not allow Hinata any real tranquility. She was far too anxious now.

"It has come to my and the Elders' attention that you are ready for your duties as a Clan head. Some remained unsure about your abilities to lead—it remains that most of our brethren pursued ambitions beyond Academy teaching."

"Yes, Father." But she did not hang her head, for there was no shame in his voice but a quiet lilt of pride to it. Surely, he had come to realize that the most dangerous missions were unlikely to be assigned to her, whereas Neji in comparison, had those as his bread and butter. Still, all these years must have shown him that she was of some worth, even if in a distinct way from Neji's quick ascent and stunning career as a top-ranked shinobi.

"As a whole, however, the Elders agreed that with the right guidance and support, you will do fine in leading the Hyuga." He ignored the intake of breath that she could not suppress, although his hands tightened a little, as if he was holding back something as well. She could not tell what he was thinking. Was he proud of her? Or had he expected more of her?

"Father, I—,"

He held a hand up, cutting her off. "There will be increased obligations for you in the near future, and when the time comes, you will be expected to lead. I became the Head when I was your age, and as was suggested by them—," He paused, looking at her with a strangely wistful expression. "You will make a suitable Head if certain conditions are fulfilled. They came to a consensus regarding certain matters—,"

And Hinata waited, trying not to curl her fingers, trying to temper her eagerness. If she had learnt to accept praise and to be just as encouraging to those who were to her, she was reduced to a quivering, frightened child now. As a child, she had been desperate for acceptance, even if she had not known it at that time. The benefit of hindsight, heartache and indubitable self-awareness however, did not calm her down, for she had always wanted him to openly approve of her. Not as a Head, but as her father.

She watched as her father's fingers strayed to the small sprig of pink, delicate flowers that she'd added to the tray—a customary touch that she'd never failed to put, even if he'd often frowned at the frivolity and told her to concentrate on better things.

"You have come of a marriageable age for some time now." He told her. "The Elders will be arranging your betrothal."

She stared, eyes growing wide.

* * *

**Phew so that's it for now and there will be more Neji and Hanabi and definitely Naruto coming up. Writing this has been a surprisingly time-consuming and draining process and yet I am horribly addicted to it. Write me your thoughts and I'll do my best to respond, yes? :)**

**PP**


	4. Diplomacy

**Diclaimer: I own nothing of _Naruto_. R&R please.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Diplomacy**

* * *

I.

This part of the forest was deep and confusing even in broad daylight, but Hinata had visited enough and knew it sufficiently to maneuver her way around in the last few hours of the afternoon.

With any luck, she would reach her destination before evening fell. Thus hurrying to pick up her pace, she darted through the trees, sparing no moment to rest but by force of habit, taking care to hide her trace.

Uchiha Sasuke however, must have known that she was coming at least a mile away.

Once she activated her Sight, she had no trouble finding him. Still, Hinata suspected that any other person without this particular kind of vision would have gone round and round in this maze of a clearing without much hope of finding him.

In this forest that he had taken to, living an almost hermit-like existence, Sasuke had few and often infrequent visitors. Few could claim to ever have known him or how he had gone from the genius who could do no wrong to a man with a stained criminal record. Nor did many try to understand, for he was aloof and appeared uncaring by nature.

That said, he had returned to this village, and the horrifying stories had been somewhat muted over the years, turning instead, into legends that served little more purpose than to threaten misbehaving children. Whenever he ventured to the village centre to buy food and daily necessities, plenty turned away and shunned him openly, leaving the kids to become convinced that he really did drink blood and eat eyeballs.

Hinata though, was on arguably familiar terms with Sasuke these days.

While she couldn't really claim to be his friend the way that Naruto had and consistently insisted so throughout the years, Hinata had always found time to visit her former patient at least once a month. She wasn't sure that he appreciated the way that she dropped in on him, because it had been quite a few years since the village council had sent her to treat his wounds and keep him sedated.

But she had continued visiting him even after he had recovered and moved to the forest, and aside from the Hyuga Elders's general disapproval and Naruto's gratefulness, Hinata actually looked forward to meeting Sasuke occasionally.

Flustered, she hurried to him, not caring that the crunch of leaves and branches beneath the geta was enough to cause some birds to flutter away. If Hinata had always approached Naruto's former teammate cautiously in this forest, now she had cast aside all inhibition.

Right before she leaped down from the tree to approach the particular tree trunk that he rested and meditated against, Hinata noted that his lips were twitching slightly. As she had frequently noticed, Sasuke appeared to be in a dream-like state. In simple, coal grey robes, he sat very still and for all appearances, was resting. Hinata however, knew that he was probably more alert and aware of his surroundings than she could hope to be on this evening.

"Good evening," She ventured with more boldness than she had imagined possible."Sasuke."

His eyes fluttered open, and those gleamed red momentarily before settling into obsidian. "So you remembered this time."

Hinata wasn't been sure as to why he'd insisted that she drop the suffix at some point. It may have been the familiarity that they'd achieved over months of her tending to him—his wounds had made him dependent on her for a while, since he had refused to see Sakura during that time. Or it may have been, as he'd hinted with that dark frown, his dislike of the now-deceased Orochimaru's former pet name for him.

"Y-Yes." She swallowed once, holding out a package that she had brought. "Also, I thought you might need to stock up on these. But please be careful—I made those stronger than before, so you can only take one each day."

He held out his hand, taking the sleeping pills with a small nod of his head to indicate his thanks. He was careful to avoid touching her fingers, although he took the package politely with both hands. "Did you come for something else?"

She looked down, biting her lips in discomfort and thus confirming his suspicion.

"Then speak." Sasuke said. Somehow, everything he uttered seemed as forceful as an order, and she had no doubt as to why so many in the village had once looked upon the last Uchiha with more than approval. If he was sour, somewhat misogynistic and unapproachable, he had an undeniable charisma that would turn all the negotiating cards in his favour. Besides, Uchiha Sasuke had been once considered the most handsome youth of his Academy class, and that must have helped to some extent.

Even in the early years, Hinata had heard that both men and women found those eyes and his pale skin attractive. But the truth was stark in the recent times— nobody really cared to go near the one-time Konohagakure traitor with all his crimes and everything else that he had aided and abetted. If he had once drawn people to him with his appearance alone, he resembled Itachi far too much these days with those strangely aging, increasingly prominent lines on his young face and the hints of grey beneath his jet hair. There was very little left that remained of the youth who had made the world take notice without even trying.

Had Naruto not pleaded and tried so vehemently, Hinata was sure that the Lady Hokage would have allowed the suggested sentence of execution. That Sasuke had been allowed back into the village had been an unprecedented decision, considering that those who'd committed lesser crimes had faced worse punishments than semi-exile. Of course, quite a few had pleaded for Sasuke and begged that mitigating factors were considered, and those appeals seemed to have worked for most part.

Hinata had often wondered what Sasuke thought of all of this. But she was far too concerned to really ask, and she inherently understood that Sasuke only tolerated her visits and presence because she provided him a quiet, easy companionship. Not once did she press him for answers, for Hinata suspected that he was struggling to live a life without the answers that he'd always assumed he had.

"What would you do," Hinata asked him softly, "If you wanted to escape?"

"From an enemy?" Now, Sasuke watched her closely as she turned away and looked into the twilight.

"Of s-sorts."

Beyond them both was the small hut that he'd built in the forest, and she wondered if she could possibly ever have the courage to leave the walls of her Clan home the way that he had and start anew in another place. Sasuke had, leaving the crumbling remnants of the Uchiha compound and its underground mazes to nothing but memory, and surely, that had taken more than a whim or a rush of blood to the head.

She wasn't sure however, that he had seen it as an escape, or that he would humour her question.

This evening however, was proving to be filled with surprises.

"If I wanted to escape, I would hide in the most obvious place first." He told her unblinkingly and not knowing how true his words echoed in the clearing. "Then I'd look around and perhaps see a crack in the wall, or a gap in something. One could slip through—it's possible if you want it enough."

"Of course." Hinata murmured. She glanced momentarily at him, shaking her head ruefully.

For the Uchiha , his Clan home was nothing more than a ghost in his memory and a derelict remnant of a previous crime scene. But for her, it was unthinkable to disobey while her father and sister were expecting her to be strong and to do what was right for the greater good. The Hyuga Estate and all that it stood for remained strong- stronger than ever, and more formidable and prominent in her mind.

She looked up at the Uchiha, smiling ruefully. "Have Naruto and Sakura come to visit recently?"

His expression did not change, although he chose to answer. "No. They're on separate missions."

"Ah." Hinata shook her head a little, considering both the Fifth Hokage's student and understudy. Being a skilled medic, Sakura was probably on medicine-related business, while Naruto was possibly on yet another diplomatic visit to the Water country. As much as possible, Sasuke's former teammates would have insisted on visiting him, but they were so bogged down these days that it seemed unlikely that they could make sure that he ate regularly and properly. "That's why your cheeks look a little gaunt."

But Sasuke wasn't fooled for a second. "I doubt that you came here to discuss that." Often and in the past, Sasuke had never hesitated to bark orders at her while she'd hurried to change the bandages and deal with the general lack of facilities in this place. Now though, there was no twinge of impatience whatsoever. "You'd better speak."

"I—," She swallowed, turning away from him. "The Hyuga Clan Elders are arranging for my betrothal."

This was expressed abruptly and unhappily. She had failed to disguise her feelings, and now she looked down in shame.

Behind her, Sasuke did not move or say anything.

In all honestly, Hinata did not know how to mention all this otherwise. It was strange even coming here to say anything at all to Sasuke, for they were in no way as close as she was with her longtime teammates and Kurenai Yuuhi. Still, she had gravitated towards him, perhaps because there was no way of gauging his reaction.

"When will it commence?" He asked, tone rather skeptical.

She forced herself to turn around and look at him directly. It was easier, she supposed, than facing her father or the Elders. "Perhaps in a year's time—or two."

He nodded slightly to indicate his understanding. "And who will you be betrothed to?"

Hinata tightened her already curled fists. The precedent was a very old and established one— once the Hyuga Council decided, there would be no need for objections or attempts at negotiations and the like. "I don't know."

That wasn't what bothered her. It was more than that, for she was aware that the lady of the house would not be allowed to pursue a shinobi career, no matter how established she was or how much potential she had. It was another precedent, long-established and firmly-rooted, and yet Hinata could not help but fear the thought of leaving all that she had worked so hard to achieve.

Sasuke said nothing, but he sat back down on the forest floor and leaned on the trunk. His face belied little emotion, but unlike the ignorant and the misinformed, Hinata was not that afraid of him.

Instead, she saw tranquility in his silence, a surprising gentleness in the way he'd taken the package from her, and above all, empathy in the space that he left for her to occupy. All that usually went unnoticed by those who hadn't already known and had retained their belief in this man, if only because he was so prickly and difficult to get along with on any day.

For a while, Hinata had often puzzled over the reasons as to why Naruto and so many others had nearly thrown everything away to bring Sasuke back to the village. Yet, it was possibly because she had never dealt personally with Sasuke prior to those key events that Hinata was able to see past the war, the fatalities and the awful waste of everything.

That distance had made him accept her presence, unlike Sakura's, and despite Hinata's warning that she was a far less competent healer than his former teammate, Sasuke had been adamant on keeping Sakura at bay during that period. It had been that same distance that had enabled Hinata to see somehow, that Sasuke was more of a victim than the vengeance-seeker that he'd shaped himself into. After all, she'd seen him toss and turn and scream silently, far too injured, ill and dehydrated to really cry even as he wept all the same for all that he had lost.

"You'll be fine." He said gruffly, after a pause. "Your Clan won't let you come to any loss."

"Really?" She whispered, rather amused by his matter-of-fact ways. Somehow feeling a little less troubled, she looked at Sasuke who sat beside her and dared to even tease him. "Do you know that it could be you?"

His eyebrows raised slightly, but then Sasuke did not express much these days. "If you must know, I'm not that surprised, even if I have a criminal record."

She in turn, was. "Why?"

"My mother was distantly related to your clan—many of them were from Hyuga stock." He told her hesitantly, and his eyes lingered over her face and hair for a second before he looked away. "If you had seen the Uchiha archives, you would have also known that the Hyuga and Uchiha were closely-knit in the past. I was too young to really take notice then, but I can remember that there was talk for a Hyuga and Itachi to be in an arranged marriage of sorts. "

Hinata glanced at the tiny frown that worked its way between his brows as he tried to recall. Leaning back against the tree trunk, she smiled wanly, inhaling in the smell of the forest leaves and amidst it, the hints of ash and fire. "It seems that I was too young to take notice too, but apparently, that was the case."

Realization dawned onto Sasuke's face, but then curiosity overtook it. He seemed to struggle with himself for a few moments, but gave in and finally asked. "Did you ever meet him?"

"I think so, although I was too young to remember your older brother." She revealed. Looking into Sasuke's face, she squinted a bit, thinking of a similar face but with lines that had made Itachi look far older and more troubled than a young man of his age ought to have been. He had been gentle and soft-spoken, bending to take her hand and putting a small cat doll into it. At that time, she had scarcely registered the thought that the older brother could be what her father was to her mother, but then everything else had become a blur and the toy had been lost for a long time now.

Besides, there had been everything after that.

While she told Sasuke of every detail that she could remember, Hinata watched him listen and store every word intently. No doubt, nightmares would plague him on this night or on another, but for now, he had chosen to dredge up the memories and stories of his brother before everything had gone horribly wrong. And if Sasuke wanted to remember a brother that he had loved before he had taught himself to hate, hunt down and kill, then who was she to disagree with him?

And as the moon rose and she tried her best to remember and supply what Sasuke asked of her, Hinata was quite sure that for all the difference between the two great Clans that had been closely knitted, one thing remained shared.

No matter who they were or what clan they belonged to if at all; for Hinata, Sasuke, Naruto, the members of her Clan and all the other villagers, the life of a shinobi was not as solitary and simple as it ought to have been.

* * *

II.

The clanging had started again.

Before Neji could even shut his eyes and try to block out the noise, the curtains were pulled open and he felt a rush of air to his face.

Normally, Neji would not have expected his privacy to be interrupted so brusquely. In a compound that was so heavily guarded and used to the unspoken rules of protocol and courtesy, it would have been unthinkable for anyone to barge in like this.

But he wasn't in his quarters, and he had forgotten where he was for a brief moment as his body and mind was a little lethargic from his dozing. All that separated Neji from the other patients in the general ward were thin, over-washed curtains, and with a start, he realized that two more patients had been shifted into this general ward.

One of them was a middle-aged woman at the opposite end of the room, snoring away despite the loud clanging to signal lunch time. The other patient however, lay in a bed adjacent to Neji's.

The other patient was his cousin.

Her bed's curtains had been yanked aside too, and she must have heard the clanging going on in the corridor beyond the general ward. She sat up sleepily, rubbing at her eyes and yawning a little. Soon enough, Hinata began to take in her surroundings and saw him.

She jolted stiff, looking alert immediately. But she dropped her gaze almost immediately, and uncomfortably, Neji realized that it was a habit that would not go away so easily. Despite what they'd recently been through, Neji and so many others of the Clan had encouraged that timid nature by glaring at, and then eventually looking past her.

He had no more time to ruminate on all this, let alone Hinata's near-abduction and Neji's subsequent absolution within the Clan. The heavy wheels of a rumbling, clattering trolley passed between them, and both he and Hinata watched as their meals were unceremoniously dumped onto their bed-tables.

With a bit of surprise, it dawned on Neji that this was going to be their first meal together in eight years.

"Thank you," Hinata said meekly to the nurse. Her consideration though, went unnoticed because the trolley's noise overpowered her softly-uttered appreciation.

Clearly, the nurse in charge of this general room was overworked, underpaid, and therefore very brisk. This general ward was getting crowded, and it was obvious that patients who required less urgent attention were grouped in here no matter what their age or gender. Without saying much, the nurse went on with her duties, yanking aside the curtains to rouse the other resting patients, then proceeded distributing trays with rice, some hastily doled-out meat soup and a few stringy vegetables.

It was the standard hospital fare, Neji supposed, although the tea was comfortingly warm. Gingerly, he picked at his food, watching Hinata do the same from the corner of his eye.

Fortunately, she did not notice him staring at her, since his hair had conveniently fallen against his face to mask this. While Hinata put a little rice to her lips, chewing thoughtfully, he wondered what her mind was occupied with.

Like him, Hinata had not really recovered fully from the exertions of the Chunin exams. Unlike Neji, however, her body had always been somewhat frail. Thus, she was being put through a period of health checks and an extended stay at the village's hospital.

Despite what he'd convinced himself of, he felt guilt creeping into him. He was quite sure that even if she had been moved to this general ward, it had been a matter of limited hospital resources and comparatively needier patients recovering from Orochimaru's extended attacks on the village. Her injuries from the Chunin examination, while better, would not heal so quickly.

When her father had arrived in the nick of time and had taken down the abducters, scooping up his unconscious daughter in his arms, Neji had looked at her sleeping form and wondered if time had really passed since he had first met her. Freed of his prejudice and resentment in some way, Neji had seen how much smaller and delicate Hinata was than she already appeared.

Never had he expected to be sitting so close to her, partaking of the same simple fare provided. The upper classmen of the Academy always had their breaks half an hour before those in Hinata's year, and naturally, it had been easy to avoid her in the past. It had been similarly easy back in the Hyuga Estate, seeing as Hinata had taken to eating in the kitchens and only after her father and sister had finished their meals in the dining hall.

Once, Neji had bumped into her when he'd left the West compound's separate dining hall to get something from the shared kitchens. Back then, he had stared, realizing what was going on but not caring enough to comment, and he had watched her stammer something and flee.

And now they were in the same hospital, in the same ward, eating the same slop. He simply didn't know what to make of it, but continued staring at Hinata divide the radish bit into smaller portions.

Now, as she finally realized he was looking at her, she was the first to offer him an awkward, uncomfortable smile, which he returned just as hesitantly. Despite their proximity and the coincidental arrangement of their beds, neither of them really knew what to say.

Just a week ago, he had apologised while refusing to accept hers, not willing to let her think that she was a burden to him and her clan. No, he'd decided then, she'd felt that for all her life, and there was little need to perpetuate it. Despite that however, it was clear that Hinata did not know how to approach him. Never mind that Neji was technically bound to her as a bodyguard for life by their very birth statuses- he had not ever held an extended conversation with a girl besides Tenten for about a decade.

But because Hinata seemed even less likely to talk than him, it was Neji who chose to broach anything resembling a conversation topic. "I think I saw Inuzuka Kiba yesterday."

Her teammate had probably come to the hospital to visit Hinata, and undoubtedly, Aburame Shino would have come along but for an urgent mission that his father had been sent on as well.

"Oh," Hinata said, a smile touching her lips weakly again. No matter how small it was, he noticed how it lighted up her eyes and that she looked much healthier than before. "Y-Yes. He brought flowers—those were really p-pretty."

The bunch of bright yellow dogroses that Kiba had carried clumsily in spare newspapers was far too common for the Yamanaka store to have those, but from Hinata's smile, Neji was sure that even weeds would have touched her. Privately, Neji suspected that Kiba had simply dug the flowers out of a bush that he'd passed by, going by the looks of the muddied newspaper.

But Neji neglected to mention this, as well as the pointed look that Kiba had shot him. Despite their cooperation on the mission that both had undertaken to rescue Hinata, Kiba was a little mistrustful of Neji. The feeling of course, was justified— Hinata was in this hospital precisely because of Neji.

She seemed to have forgotten that though. She looked shyly at him, asking, "A-Are you feeling better, Neji-nii?"

He nodded, wondering whether to ask the same to express his concern. It would have been rather strange to though, seeing that she was recovering from what _he_ had mostly inflicted on her.

Instead, Neji settled for something he thought would be less problematic. "Shall we take a walk after this?"

Perhaps it was the abrupt shift in conversation or the fact that he had spoken to her at all, for Hinata was startled. It showed clearly on her face and she made no effort to hide it.

She smiled less cautiously now, her face bright and accepting as if she had forgotten every grievance he'd vented on her. "I'd l-like that. But Hanabi promised to come everyday, a-and I don't want to m-miss her."

"Of course." Neji replied automatically, a little taken aback by how forthcoming Hanabi apparently was with Hinata.

While he would never admit it to anyone and not fully even to himself, Neji had studied Hinata long enough to know that her sister was generally not that close to her. Perhaps like him, Neji supposed, Hanabi had learnt some lessons through the recent spate of events.

"She was w-worried," Hinata revealed softly, looking both touched and pleased. "And she i-insisted on coming although she's busy helping out."

There had been a mass mobilization of efforts to rebuild the village. Many parts of it had been damaged, thanks to the wake of destruction that Orochimaru and his cronies had left behind. Thinking about it, Neji could not help frowning and wishing that he was out there helping too.

But he had collapsed quite suddenly the day before yesterday while carrying a log with Tenten, and the Hyuga head had personally insisted that he was sent here for an extended check-up. Fatigue, it seemed, required a few days to recuperate from, never mind that Neji was already bored with doing little but sleeping.

At least though, there would be some company for now. While Neji had always been left to his own devices and did not really yearn for Team Gai's rambunctious company, Neji now reflected that he would learn to get along better with his younger cousin while they were both in this general ward.

"Will your friends be visiting?" Hinata asked timidly.

"Probably not." Neji said shortly. He didn't really know how to remind Hinata that Lee was not well enough to do more than limp around, or that besides Tenten and Gai, Neji wasn't really familiar with anybody else.

And with a bit of discomfort, Neji realized that for all the praise and accolades that he had received as a shinobi, the weaker, far less talented Hinata was more likely to have visitors than him. Morbidly, and perhaps because the memory of Sarutobi's burial was still fresh in his mind, Neji wondered how many would turn up for his funeral and leave bouquets.

Hinata though, was entirely unaware of what he was thinking about. She had slipped out and moved to the window between their beds, and Neji saw that the pale blue pajamas were a little too large for her.

"There's some nice sunlight today," She murmured to herself, and this time, he detected no trace of a stammer. The light was shining through the blinds, and longingly, she slipped her thin fingers between the gaps, as if trying to catch onto a shard or two.

But as soon as she shook herself from the reverie, he saw the smile that lingered on her lips weaken, and when she spoke, the stammer was back.

"A walk would be g-good, wouldn't it?" As she slipped back into her bed, she took her cup. Somehow fascinated by her every action now, he nodded his response mutely and watched one small finger trace the cup's rim. His cousin would not stop fidgeting in his presence even now, and her insistent politeness and distance with him was actually starting to unnerve him.

They continued their meals, none of them really saying anything now.

Hinata though, did not stop smiling that unsure, meek smile, and Neji found himself distracted with watching her as discreetly as he could.

* * *

III.

It was a pity, he thought about an hour later, that Hanabi had arrived and insisted that Hinata ought to stay indoors. As much as he had avoided Hinata, he was on even more unfamiliar terms with her younger sister. He didn't mind this general apathy of course, but the younger sister had actually seemed to harbour resentment against him.

When Hanabi had spotted him, she shot him a strange, dark look that he scarcely failed to notice. And busy enjoying the sudden, almost unprecedented show of open affection that her younger sister lavished on her, Hinata had missed it.

Neji didn't know what to make of all of this. On one hand, he had never interacted much with either of the sisters, but he could at least claim to have sparred once with Hanabi on Higurashi's request. While she was nowhere good enough to come close to defeating him, Neji was gracious enough to admit to Higurashi in private that she was very good for her age and her limited experience.

That said, Hanabi was clearly confident and was used to being favoured by her father and the Elders next to her less decisive sister. Hyuga Hanabi probably didn't need or care for Neji's approval in the least. In contrast, the more Neji looked at Hinata, the more he silently decided that she had probably taken after anybody but the Hyuga head.

Through his limited interaction with Hanabi, Neji certainly could recognise plenty of his own traits in Hinata's younger sister. Unlike her elder sister, Hanabi was tall for her age and shared her father's and most of the Clan members' sober temperament. Above all, she understood her immense potential but also knew that she was only a specific tattoo away from joining so many other less privileged Clan members.

For a long time, the combination of both pieces of knowledge had been enough to turn Neji against all the Main branch members, including Hinata. Now, he suspected that Hanabi had experienced something similar if even worse. No matter how Hanabi had walled off her affection for Hinata and incessantly found ways to compete with her, those blood ties were not so easily abandoned.

For now though, her sister's grevious injury had made Hanabi drop those defences and become openly protective of Hinata. Neji could see it even if Hinata scarcely noticed it. It was in the way that Hanabi arranged herself to shield Hinata; in the way that Hanabi answered Hinata's questions eagerly so as to prevent Neji from offering answers, and it was written in the slight twist of her lips and her arched fingers.

From the way her eyes flicked coolly over him, Neji knew exactly what she was thinking. For all the courtesy that she presented to her seniors in the presence of her father and the relevant members of the Clan, in her eyes, Neji was but a member of the Branch family.

Certainly, Hanabi had all but screamed this. "He is but a Branch member! How dare he lay a hand on my sister!"

The Hyuga head and the council of Elders had been deliberating on how to judge Neji, but Hanabi had interrupted them thus.

Before that, Neji had been rather sure that they would have demurred and postponed the judgement until a later point, even while Hinata lay unconscious in the emergency ward. Short of expressing their approval towards Neji's unconcealed aggression, the Elders had gazed upon him with something close to complete understanding.

Neji had sensed it in the way that many of the Elders' lips had curled, and how plenty of them had made remarks hinting of their acceptance that the strong defeated the weak, and that the weak were eliminated as a matter of natural course.

But at Hanabi's intrusion into her father's office and the way she'd swept aside the servants chasing and trying to restrain her, Hyuga Hiashi had sat upright in his chair.

Standing amidst the circle of Elders that she had rudely pushed to enter, Hanabi had stamped her foot once.

"He—," She had pointed with an accusing finger at Neji, her voice loud and defiant. "He tried to kill my sister!"

And startled, as if the truth finally hit home, realisation had dawned on Hyuga Hiashi's face.

He had stared first at his younger daughter, and then looked directly upon Neji's face for the first time in many years.

It had been just as well that Neji left the Estate before they decided to exile him. During that time, he had trained even more feverishly before, wanting to beat Uzumaki Naruto completely then if only because the underdog had the audacity to act the way he had.

Even after the final round of the examination, Neji had not returned to the Estate, determined to start afresh if in a completely different place. But when the Hyuga head appeared in person one evening and asked that he return, Neji had not known how to refuse. Now that he and Hinata would eventually be discharged from the hospital and possibly see each other as well as Hanabi back in the Hyuga Estate, Neji wondered about the days to come.

The flowers were perfuming the warm air, and those were admittedly rather nice even if a shinobi like Neji appreciated practicality more than aesthetics. He suspected that Hinata would have liked all the colours, but she had apologetically conceded to her sister's insistence and stayed up there.

Neji of course, had been forced to nod as naturally as he could and taken to the outdoors. In all honesty, he hadn't been that keen on it but Neji had gone because Hanabi pointedly remarked, "You can go ahead— you can walk, can't you?"

Now that he was in the garden, Neji lost all interest in taking a stroll. Instead, he settled on a bench, watching butterflies move in the air while counting the patients who were moving around in various states of health.

Sitting there in the lazy afternoon, he looked diffidently past them, unconsciously willing Hanabi to leave soon. If she did, Hinata could probably catch the last few hours of sunlight. And even if she couldn't, there was still dinner and at least one more meal after that before either of them were discharged.

There was time, Neji assumed, for him to try and make amends.

With that frame of mind, he eventually made his way back to the general ward, stopping only to check in on Lee. Overall, Neji hadn't expected the bed next to his to be empty, save for Hanabi who was seated there.

Neither of them said anything, even while the other patients snoozed or talked and chattered amongst themselves. But standing at the foot of Hinata's vacant bed, Neji looked at Hanabi and saw thinly-veiled dislike and somehow, triumph, in her face.

"This general ward is too noisy for my older sister to rest well." She said firmly. Seated with her legs crossed there, Hanabi seemed to possess the entire bed that her sister had barely occupied. As she got off the bed, moving past him, she even tilted her chin impudently. "Enjoy your dinner."

Neji did not say anything.

* * *

IV.

Three members of the Konoha elite forces had melted their forms into the shadows. The sedan passing beneath them would come to rest soon, but those in the trees were about to begin their work.

Had he been sitting amongst the junior members of the Konohagakure council, he would have built on the new order's principles of diplomacy and said, "Let us find a way to negotiate terms with Iwazumi."

Now that he was here, wearing the elite forces' standard uniform, Hawk-mask peered into the distance, nodded once to confirm what they'd predicted, and in effect, signalled that it was time to attack.

"Quickly!" Bear-mask hissed, lifting up a glinting kunai. "We should do it now!"

"Alright." Hawk-mask said quietly. Conveniently, the mask did not show his hesitation. "Be careful."

Admittedly, it bothered him that they were about to target the very man that had sat across Hinata in the East dinning hall of the Hyuga Estate and made her laugh with all his amusing stories.

All the finest establishments in Konoha could not rival the East dining hall in the Hyuga estate when it was prepared for a guest, and as a Konoha council member, Hiashi had been clever to put the ball in a park that he had absolute control over. No matter how austere the Hyuga head was in personality and preferences, he could prove to be glib and very, very accommodating. The talks had gone well on that evening, and in the Hyuga head and Lady Hokage's presence, Iwazumi Hide had pledged to sell the expanding Konoha the cement it had required.

Of course, there had been slightly more than good food, wine, and general hospitality. When Iwazumi Hide had smiled directly at Hyuga Hinata and complimented her father for his fine offspring, all present at the dinner had seen the Hyuga head's mostly forgotten younger daughter glower while the elder one had blushed prettily.

To Hawk-mask, the sight had been instantly memorable and unforgettable.

He wondered what she would think, when this mission was completed and Iwazumi Hide was back in Konoha as a prisoner to be questioned or even interrogated. She was always in the company of children as an Academy Instructor, and while she understood the merits of retaining certain aspects of the old systems, Hinata wasn't the sort to condone cold-bloodedness.

But the reports had been confirmed, and this innocuous, genial businessman was certainly the person who'd been passing information about Konoha to the last of those who believed in the old shinobi system and wanted its revival. The die-hards, Tsunade had called them, and Hawk-mask had to agree that the believers were either deluded or blood-thirsty by nature.

For now, he wasn't wearing the hat of a Konoha council member, and he reminded himself to concentrate on leading Iwazumi into the specially-prepared trap. Besides, he was the captain for this mission, and it wouldn't do well for them to mess up right here after having trailed Iwazumi and learning about his habits for a whole week.

Carefully, as Hawk-mask gave his signal, Bear-mask and Cat-masked slipped down from the trees. There was no sound so that the now-grazing horses did not hear, and he watched the two make off successfully to the back of the sedan.

How strange it was, Hawk-mask thought, that in this brave new world and re-established shinobi system, the arts of killing and reconnaissance were still so useful. He watched for their signal, then slipped down too. He was very cautious too, moving past the horses while scanning the areas all around him to check for other presences.

They were counting on the pattern that they'd observed all week through. For an hour each evening, the servants who travelled with Iwzumi left to fetch water and gather wood. The elite-force members had watched carefully every day, noting the times when Iwazumi was unguarded and becoming confident enough to predict when he allowed for this.

That was the thing about the businessman. He liked privacy and a few moments of freedom every evening to get cosy with a different beauty that he bought once every three evenings. Each day, once the sedan came to a stop, a tent was set-up and the servants scuttled off to restock for the next day's travel. It was when, as Bear-masked had noted wryly, the action began.

While he had been conscious not to supply overly-vivid details to his teammates and they'd owned the sense not to ask him to, Hawk-mask had privately watched the ongoings in the tent very carefully.

For a whole week now, he had stooped in the trees and watched individual masses of sometimes burning energy move and merge, as if he had been asked to dissect an animal into its separate tendons, muscles and coiled entrails. His teammates had worked with him long enough not to crack jokes about what his eyes could see, and they were far too professional to do more than to shake their heads at times when the activities got a bit too loud to miss.

A low movement caught his eye. Bear-mask and Cat-mask were hiding behind some trees now, waiting to spring in once he gave another signal. He held up a hand, trying to steady his somehow erratic breathing. They didn't know the exact nature of what he would see—what he had seen and was expecting to now.

Because it hadn't been particularly relevant for the mission's purposes, he hadn't been supposed to notice that the businessman had a preference for pale skin and dark hair. For that same reason, he had never mentioned this to Bear-mask and Cat-mask, even if he briefed them with meticulous details on the servants' dilly-dallying and the deep state of sleep that Iwazumi fell into before the sun truly set.

They all knew that Iwazumi lost interest quickly and generally as he passed through the villages that he did business in. But unlike Hawk-mask, the others didn't know that Iwazumi's selection of every new whore always shared certain physical attributes.

Unlike him, Bear-mask and Cat-mask didn't understand that he had watched the way that Iwazumi had panted, breathed and groaned into the crook of his momentary-lover's white neck. They would never see nor understand the effect that her dark, inky hair had as it spilled over small, rounded shoulders and soft, generous breasts.

They hadn't felt the strange, tingling flare of the tattoo on his skin, let alone the ache of his chest and the unknown fear and shame in his gut.

But he wore a mask, and he knew how to use it well.

Taking care not to neglect his slight blind-spot, he checked once more and then slipped into the tent. As he did, he deactivated the Byakugan—there was no need for it in this enclosed, trapped space.

The whore was the first to notice and cried out from under Iwazumi, shock etched into her pretty, if overly-made up features. She scrambled away while clutching to close her brightly-coloured robe, as if her modesty was more important than her life. Her scream rang out clear and high in the air.

As he threw the kunai at her heart, he tried not to hear it, and he looked away from her pale, heart-shaped face and her dark hair.

The next kunai was even swifter than the first— it implanted itself squarely in Iwazumi's forehead.

It happened more quickly than he had planned for, what with two nearly-simultaneous bursts of sound and the commotion that Bear-mask and Cat-mask created by bursting in a second later.

They were both panting, having been engaged in some tussle with the returning servants.

"They're all clones!" Cat-mask shrieked, throwing aside his last shuriken.

"He knows," Bear-mask tugged at Cat-mask, pointing at the stationary figure in the middle of the tent.

Hawk-mask stood there, staring through the holes of his mask at the last of the insubstantial puffs of smoke.

"And so does Iwazumi."

* * *

V.

It took a whole year before Neji's induction into Hiashi's council was undeniable.

The invitations to the meetings had been infrequent at first, and Neji had received his Uncle's instructions rather tentatively. But as the months went by, he was brought in more and more and Hiashi increasingly insisted that his opinion was heard. At some point, Neji had attended the meetings without a break for two whole months, and it was then that Hanabi objected openly.

As Neji had always suspected, it proved to be a rather violent one.

Her father, it seemed, had also lost his temper and had taken to yelling too.

For days after, the servants had gossiped amongst themselves about the second daughter's temper and her clearly-expressed unhappiness. Things had been thrown about, a smash heard, and apparently, said the head cook, the precious second daughter had sported a red mark on her cheek for a few hours.

"I will not have you behaving in this unseemly fashion!" Hiashi had supposedly roared, and the servants took note of the key phrase. It had been uttered so loudly that their ears picked it up even if those with the Hyuga gift were not allowed to view all that had transpired in the office.

Neji had never been one to concern himself with rumours and the like, but it proved difficult this time. Whispers surrounded him even while he trained, and the younger Hyuga children and those around his age scuttled past him when he ventured into halls. If he had intimidated them unconsciously before, now they seemed to actually fear him.

But it wasn't as if Neji could refuse the Head's instructions, and privately, he was bothered by how the Elders whispered openly when he turned up for meetings. It had been getting difficult as of lately for anyone to ignore the way that Hiashi smoothly transited his brother's child into the upper circles of the Clan.

"Did you hear?" They murmured. "That branch member, you know? That genius-child—that Neji, was the cause of it—,"

The kitchen maids that Hinata always made a point to smile at and inquire after indulged in the same gossip. "The second younger mistress apparently swore that she would never accept that Neji into the main family!"

"He would be a better choice than Hinata-sama," Some of the cousins mused, and then checked nervously to see if anybody had seen them saying such things.

"Hiashi-sama threatened to brand the second young mistress to put her in her place," The manservants who served Higurashi whispered. "Hiashi-sama always felt guilty towards Hizashi-sama."

And because it seemed like the only way to preserve dignity, Neji tried to close his eyes and ears to all of this.

After that coincidental arrangement in the hospital, he and Hinata hadn't seen each other much back in the Hyuga estate. Save for that chance glimpse of her by the waterfall and when they had subsequently trained together at times, they never met at all. While Neji had eventually accepted the Hyuga head's invitation and joined the Main family in the East halls for dinner, Hinata still kept away and ate alone in the kitchens.

No matter how hard he tried to guess what she was thinking about, Neji never surmised what Hinata felt about his ascent into the higher echeleons of the Clan. Appearances-wise, Hinata was was never rude to him or abrupt in the few ocassions when they met or trained together. She was always mild, sweet and considerate, thanking him for his help, apologising for having troubled him and brewing tea that she left unobtrusively at the training ground's veranda and disappearing before he could thank her for it.

They both knew that she would never be more than competent—never more than ordinary or acceptable. Hinata would never be Neji, even if it had become exceedingly clear that Hinata's efforts and experience as a shinobi was sufficient to put her paces in front of her more talented sibling. In the silence of what was already understood, they all knew that Hinata would hit the limits of what she could learn and perfect, and it would be a limit that Neji had long overcome while Hanabi would, one day.

And yet, it simply wasn't in Hinata's nature to begrudge Neji or Hanabi in return.

So in the day, Neji tolerated the whispers mouthed behind sleeves. In the evenings, he tried to ignore the keen suspicion in Hanabi's eyes as she looked from her father to Neji, as if trying to see what Neji had that her father favoured so much. In the night, he tried not to think about the past and dream of forests that he'd wandered through and that waterfall that he locked away in the deepest part of his recollection.

He heard from Tenten, who'd claimed that she heard in turn from Ino, that Hinata was planning on re-taking the Chunin exam. As a matter of fact, Neji knew that Hinata would have trained as desperately as she had, whether or not there was an examination coming. He knew this, because she left early in the morning and came back only when the evening had fallen each day.

More than that, he had seen the longing in her eyes the day that Uzumaki Naruto had left with the legendary Jiraiya.

It had been the first time that her father had suggested that Neji train with her. It had been the first time that Neji had forced himself not to hold back, for that would have been disrespectful to her.

That day, he had found that he was inwardly bothered by how readily she left when he suggested that she send Naruto off. Still, Neji had been unwilling to hold her back.

It had been nearly a year since Naruto had left.

It had been three months since Neji had topped the Chunin examination that he'd re-sat for. He was expected to do the same for the upcoming Jounin examination.

A year had ended since Neji had fully recovered from the duel with Kidomaru and his brush-in with death.

Five months had passed since Hinata's team had failed to complete a mission.

It had been nearly a year since Neji had become privy to the Hyuga council's matters.

It had been a year since Hinata had begun to grow her hair out upon her sister's insistence.

It had been far too long, Neji found himself thinking, that Hinata swallowed the way that the Elders showed favouritism to anyone but her.

Day in day out, she went about her business quietly and almost unnoticeably as she had for nearly all her life. She had become very good at fading into the background, and at one point, he scarcely realized that she had returned from a mission. Granted, they had both become increasingly busy with more difficult missions, but once, Hinata disappeared for a whole month when the mission's duration was estimated to be take her away from home for no more than three weeks.

While she always returned and the team's reports to the Hokage Tower were never tardy, Neji was sure that she deliberately dawdled on her way back to the village. If her father knew, he said nothing during the meetings and dinners that Neji sat in, and when a maid had informed him that the young mistress had returned home on one evening, he had only lifted his eyes once and said, "Make sure her dinner's warm."

It was probably a marked improvement, Neji supposed, although her father would not have cared so openly in her presence.

He saw Hinata one day in the North gardens, apparently tilling a little section of the garden where she grew flowers.

Somehow, she had changed again since the last time he'd seen her- there was that slight increase of height and her hair was nearly touching her shoulders. But he could see that despite her bangs and the way she crouched low, hands busy with weeding, his cousin's cheeks were tear-stained.

In that moment, Neji saw how she would work her fingers to the bone if it took her mind off things. He saw his mother in the way that his cousin had silently hunched over and he recalled how Hinata had forced herself to stand even when she had no chance of victory against him. She had passed the Chunin examination well, but all he could think of on that evening was the way that she had struggled to.

And as Hinata had uprooted those weeds, holding her head still as if all was fine, he understood instinctively that the Hyuga women could not allow themselves to stop trying.

Not even if they broke themselves in the end.

He looked at the way that she never broke down openly in front of anyone, and how she consistently apologised for things that had nothing to do with her, if only to placate others. And in hearing her stifle her sobs to a convincing silence, he was reminded to go on with what was expected of him and to keep mum too.

Yet, he saw the similarities of her steady hands to his own when he slit the throat of an enemy-nin during a later mission. No matter what they thought, there was a protocol to observe and rules that ensured survival. Even if she had eliminated only weeds, Neji understood her far better than ever, and for yet another time in his life, he felt that loathsome helplessness clutch at him.

For all her deviant characteristics and perceived flaws, Neji knew what his cousin was at the end of the day.

She was a Hyuga.

That evening in the garden, Neji never did approach her, despite wanting to. That was the way of the Hyuga—the Clan members were surprisingly indifferent to all that they saw, no matter how their talent enabled them to see so much and so deeply.

Mostly, Neji suspected, they looked past and through things, and as far as possible, they looked away from what was before them.

That way, all things would come to pass.

* * *

VI.

A year after Hanabi's alleged tantrum, nobody would have thought of starting the Hyuga Council meeting without Neji.

* * *

VII.

A few hours after night had fallen, Neji would have been content to take his bath, huddle in freshly-prepared blankets and to catch up on his sleep. The previous mission had been a difficult one, but the most recent one had been back-to-back with it and Neji had barely rested after making his rather unfavorable report at the Hokage's office.

As he lowered himself into the tub of steaming water, the full brunt of his exertions made themselves more than clear. One of the manservants had helpfully drawn a bath for him while he'd been at the meeting, and Neji reflected momentarily and thankfully on the conveniences of living here.

No matter how oppressive the atmosphere within the Hyuga Estate often was, it remained that Neji always had pressed clothes and drawn baths waiting for him when he needed those. And no matter how stiff the decorum and archaic the practices of the Clan members got, it was an arguably safe place to be in. Of course, it was by no coincidence that the estate was strategically located in a direction that faced the main gates of Konohagakure. As was with the village's security practices, there were guards rotated every hour to watch at the gates of the Hyuga estate.

As he soaked and floated silently, Neji felt his arms and thighs throb painfully. With a soft groan, he finally admitted to himself that the ache was more than mildly uncomfortable and that he was definitely tired. Truly, he was tempted to indulge in Nara Shikamaru's whining, except that there was no one to complain to and that he was too exhausted to bother.

Besides, Hyuga Neji did not complain. It was unthinkable and simply too gauche for someone who was so restrained by nature, and he had always relied on a stiff upper lip in most situations. That had been so, even when his former sensei frequently insisted on having Team Gai stack sweaty palms in imitation of a pagoda while life-or-death situations loomed around them.

Smiling a little at the old days, Neji allowed himself a moment more of relaxation. But he was disciplined enough to not fall asleep in the tub and began scrubbing at his hair. The dried blood came off quickly enough in hot water that he doused all over himself, and only when he was satisfied did he sink lower to warm his torso.

Throughout the meeting with the Hyuga head, Neji had been aware that the scent of sweat and blood clung thick and sour to his skin, despite the clean robe that he'd worn to meet his Uncle. Neji had barely a chance to peel off the regulation Jounin uniform that he'd changed into before entering the village, and even if his nails were short and clipped, the grime still lingered.

At the main gate of the Hyuga Estate, one of his older cousins had greeted him tersely, and another had informed him that the Head wanted to report as soon as possible. None of the current guards on duty had received any indication as to why the Head required Neji's attention so urgently, but of course, Neji had done as instructed and had hurried to his Uncle's study.

It was understood that the Hyuga Head's direct orders were to be followed. Without Hiashi really saying so or Neji agreeing and suggesting his compliance, his induction into Main family concerns had been completed for a long time. The able politician that he was, Hiashi had fielded everything expertly and with a glibness that had shown his mettle — he had placated both the Main and Branch family merely by reinforcing the notion that Neji had nothing but the Clan's interests at heart.

It was fairly obvious to Neji that some measure of trust had been deposited after Neji had gone after the Cloud Nin who had taken off with the unconscious Hinata. But even more stark to Neji was Hiashi's encouragement of the training sessions that Neji went through with Hinata.

Neji though, understood as well as Hiashi that the openly-voiced appreciation of Neji's efforts to hone Hinata's skills was simply a part of the diplomatic performance. The lavish praise had slowly made other Branch members look with softer eyes towards Hinata. And through highlighting Neji's role as a _willing_ Main family protector, Hiashi had instilled a sense of worth and pride that the Branch family had lacked for too long. Without them really sensing the Head's calculated efforts to soothe long-strained relations, the undercurrents of resentment that the Branch family had always fought to conceal were thus muted.

It took a man as innately shrewd and politically-wise as Hiashi to understand the value of harmony and the use that Neji provided as the poster-child for his cause. On the other hand, it took someone as skeptical, quietly understanding and emotionally beholden as Neji to see what his Uncle was doing.

Beyond that however, was the understanding between both men that had been forged. The other Clan members had noticed and commented, in particular, the Elders and his younger cousin Hanabi. But apart from the minor spanner that Hanabi had thrown into the plans with her show of temper, both men and those around them had implicitly accepted that Neji would be trained to become an advisor for the next generation of Hyugas at the forefront of the clan.

Naturally, Neji had gone there expecting that the Head would ask for his view on an issue. But while Neji had been correct in some sense, he hadn't expected the issue to involve his younger cousin, Hinata.

Admittedly, he was troubled by today's mission as well as what Hizashi had revealed to him in confidence. But Neji had been quite certain that the combination of a hot bath, a good meal with the benefit of the kotatsu and the sheer exhaustion that had accumulated in his body would have been sufficient for him to fall asleep eventually. He'd had enough nasty shocks from the failed mission today, and while there were issues to be concerned with, he was prepared to leave it to the morning and his three days of post-mission rest.

As was such, Neji hadn't expected her to knock at his door.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, my dear readers/reviewers! Thank you for sticking with me and writing so many beautiful, wonderful comments. I swear, I cannot go without those! But it's been fantastic so far, writing and reading and trying to predict what will be next in the final chapters of the manga. I've left some things deliberately vague as to what Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura are up to as twenty-year-olds in my story, but I may revise it if future manga chapters require me to. For now though, I think it's a pretty safe bet and I hope you'll continue to read and review!**

**Cheers,**

**PP**


	5. Protector

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of _Naruto_. R&R please.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Protector**

* * *

I.

Two children were huddled together and peering at charred, tiny sticks.

The boy's fingers were nimble, darting through and sorting out the general mess that he had smuggled in a handkerchief to show the younger girl.

"Remember?" He asked her expectantly. They'd both seen how the leaves had swirled as glowing embers in the air. "He started that bonfire."

But Hinata was a little troubled—her mother had told her to address people properly, and the elder brother who'd visited with his father was both her and Neji-nii's senior. To Hinata, just calling the elder brother 'he' seemed a little rude.

In this instance, she dared to correct her cousin and suggested, "He's older than us—we should call him Onii-san."

Neji-nii didn't say anything at first, although she saw that his eyes had narrowed. It puzzled Hinata that he was the first to look away by transferring his gaze to the handkerchief that he was gripping tightly in his hand. "Alright."

She wondered if Neji-nii liked the elder brother as much as she did.

Hinata's father had wanted to speak to the elder brother's father privately in the study. But while his father talked with the Hyuga head, the elder brother with the jet hair and eyes had been asked to help one of the Hyuga servants in the garden.

That day, Hinata, Neji-nii and some other Hyuga children had eagerly watched the servants sweep the autumn leaves into a giant pile. But instead of leading the elder brother's father to his study, Hinata's father had also paused.

They'd all gathered, watching the elder brother help start the bonfire.

Hinata was sure that like her, Father had never seen anything as pretty. While she hadn't taken notice of the elder brother's name because she was mostly hidden behind Neji-nii, she could still remember the older boy's sooty, long hair—even longer than Neji-nii's and in a ponytail— and the high collar framing his chin as the fire had flowed from his lips.

"How pretty," She had whispered to Neji-nii, and he must have agreed because he had been silent, watching the bonfire with all of them. Even though it was two weeks ago, she could still remember the fire.

But as Neji-nii opened the handkerchief and held one out charred stick to her now, she backed away clumsily.

"Will Koneko get burnt?" Hinata was concerned with protecting her newest doll. It was already her favourite doll with its round, feline body and pleased expression. Ever since she had received it, it had slept by her side for the past two weeks.

"If it gets too near the fire." Neji-nii looked at her, and then looked away quickly. It was strange, because he rarely ever did that, if at all.

"Kiku says we're not supposed to play with fire," Hinata whispered, hiding and protecting Koneko in her long sleeves, although she was far too fascinated to leave just yet.

"We're not playing with fire." Her cousin said confidently, noting her wide, frightened eyes.

To Hinata, Neji was taller, faster and much, much cleverer than her. He could even count in multiples of nineteen. So she kept quiet, sure that he was correct and afraid that he would leave her behind.

"This is a match, Hinata-sama— it starts the fire."

"Really, Nii-san?" Hinata asked, still a little afraid of those dark remnants of whatever they had been. "I thought you needed chakra—," She put a small hand to her lips, trying to imitate the elder brother with the dark hair and even darker eyes who'd started the fire two weeks ago. "Is the match good enough?"

"My father said so." He said this matter-of-factly, a proud smile lighting up his face as if that put an end to any query.

"Then what do you do with the match?" To be safe, she checked around them, but the servants who had not seen them sneaking off were probably still gossiping some distance away. If they huddled and squatted like this in the North gardens, nobody would suspect that Neji had saved something that they were not supposed to even go near. "It smells funny, Neji-nii."

"You strike it." Her cousin said authoritatively. He did it against a rock, but nothing happened. He frowned, looking closely at its nib. "It's supposed to catch fire. And it lights up, and it looks really pretty. Like—" He fell silent, eyes flicking once to hers.

Unable to come up with a descriptive, he then rubbed it harder in retaliation, mouth pursing.

"No!" She exclaimed, thinking that it would surely catch fire now.

But he shushed her immediately; clearly afraid the servants would hear them.

So she nodded, trying to appease him by huddling closer and thus promising that she would keep their secret. She wanted to follow Neji-nii; the other cousins weren't half as fun even if they were older and often smiled and laughed with her.

Besides, Neji always knew all the good places to play and hide and seek and all sorts of things about animals that his father always told him about. To Hinata, Neji-nii was different, because he was about her age but he was the older brother that she would always have even if anything went wrong.

When Mother had said that Neji-nii would be a protector last week, Hinata had asked, "Just like Father is to Mother?"

Mother had only looked at her and smiled. Mother was a little strange at times; quiet and tired and pale.

These days, the maids were all busy caring for Mother, and Hinata found it easier to slip away from them. Neji-nii, however, never had any trouble. He could be almost invisible because he was so quick and so clever.

She wanted to be like him—to make Father smile at her the way Neji's father smiled at him.

So she nodded, eyes huge in her face although she did not know it. "I'll be quiet, Nii-san, I promise. What do you do after that?"

"It's supposed to light up like this." He did it yet again, but nothing happened.

Confused, Neji looked at the charred piece, thinking about what his father had explained after he'd caught Neji trying to breathe fire instead of practicing his usual forms. Sitting them aside from the heat of the afternoon, he'd assured Neji that chakra wasn't even required to start a fire.

He'd shown Neji how to start a fire with these sticks, but why wasn't it lighting up now?

Neji frowned, trying yet again.

"Maybe," Hinata suggested timidly, her tiny index straying to her small, pink lips, "The match is only good once?"

He began to say something but a rustling sound was heard from the distant bushes.

Instinctively, he activated the Byakugan, searching around them to see who it was.

She had already pressed herself behind him, afraid and trembling, afraid of being scolded. She had yet to master the posture, and Father had admonished her just hours ago. "Neji-nii…"

"It's just a bird in the bush." Neji-nii told her, calming them both down. "Kiku and Souji are still talking and lazing around back there."

"Really?" Hinata said in awe now, not letting go but staring at the way that his eyes were so sharp and the veins around those throbbed and swelled.

Curiously, she reached out to touch one vein very lightly. Her own eyes weren't as strong, and meekly, she said, "You're amazing, Nii-san."

A pleased smile bloomed on his face and he looked down embarrassedly, lobbing the useless match into a bush. Then he got up, pulling her with him and dusting them both. "Come on, Hinata-sama."

She took his offered hand, as he had always extended and she had always taken.

But he must have spotted a servant coming too close with his still-activated Byakugan, for his eyes narrowed and he hissed, "Let's go!"

As she laughed joyfully and felt him pull her into a run, they never did look back to check if the servant had caught sight of them.

They were already scrambling away with their long sleeves flapping in the wind, and their sandals made tracks in the dirt that they never turned to witness.

So it was that Hinata looked for Koneko later and found that she had failed to protect her cat doll. She was miserable and even more ashamed when Neji-nii heard about it from a maid and snuck to the North gardens alone to search for Koneko.

But Neji-nii couldn't find Koneko no matter how hard he had tried, not even when he'd spent a whole extra hour in the gardens instead of practicing his calligraphy.

Later, when she crept to the gardens and saw him still there, he explained that Koneko was too small and that she oughtn't to cry because she had other dolls.

Still, she was so sad and couldn't help crying in front of Neji-nii. Not noisily of course, because they weren't supposed to be hanging around in the North Gardens in the evening without any servants to follow them.

"Don't cry," He whispered, eyes big and sad in his face, and he squatted next to her and put his arm around her.

But she could not really stop sobbing and her nose watered away even though she tried not to cry. Nor could she find the words to explain to him that she was still worried. She did not know how to say that Koneko had no protector in this dark, cold night whereas Hinata had Neji-nii.

Then he dried her tears with his sleeve because he had to leave to the West hall for dinner and she to the East. Only his fervent promises that they would find a real cat and its kittens together made her cheer up a little.

"When shall we, Nii-san?" Hinata whispered, her pinky linked in his. Her eyes were bright and round in the indigo evening from the remnants of her tears. The crickets were singing, and yet, she thought she heard his heart beating against his throat.

"Soon," He promised.

Four nights later, the Hyuga Estate went into lock-down.

* * *

II.

Had he been asked for his honest opinion, Neji would have advised the erstwhile Hyuga Head to avoid assuming that his elder daughter would go through the betrothal plans without a single objection.

Certainly, Neji had sensed the timeliness with which Hiashi had eventually acknowledged and successfully honed the various qualities that Hinata possessed. Never mind that gentleness was not valued as much as competency; never mind that innocence was not valued as much as intelligence, never mind that consideration for others was not valued as much as the hierarchy that had been long-established. The shinobi system was changing, and the true mark of a shinobi was adaptability.

It mattered little that every trait of Hinata's was not particularly valued by the Clan. Hiashi had seen qualities that were rare in the Hyugas and certainly amongst most in Konohagakure. If his elder daughter seemed helpless and apologetic even in the most inappropriate times, she made a fine diplomat in some ways.

Neji had always understood that, because he had seen for himself how others took to his meek, sweet-natured cousin. But while Neji had not fully understood that those qualities made her a pawn until recently, he had seen firsthand how determined and tenacious she could be.

Yet, he had not been asked to predict her likely reaction to the Hyuga Council's plans. Even for someone who tried to remain at the fringe of the Clan politics, Neji understood that it was the Hyuga head and the council's prerogative to betroth her to any common idiot if they deemed fit.

Of course, Neji understood that this particular cousin had never really fit into the mould of those before and around her. But the assumption that Hinata would fulfill her responsibilities was a reasonable one for all intent and purposes of a betrothal. Her mother had lived by the Clan's rules, as had Neji's. Her uncle had died by the Clan's rules, even if willingly. Similarly, other cousins and relatives had been bound by similar rules for all their lives and would continue to perpetuate those, and even the Elders and the Head were to observe the rules.

Some things weren't a matter of rules, as Neji had learnt. Principle and habit were far more compelling, personal choice aside.

Mostly, he had expected her to decline, if politely and diplomatically. He had half-expected her to be silent for as long as it would take for the plans to come into fruition. He had mostly expected her to shoulder the burden and only appeal to her former teammates for their aid if forced to the end of her rope.

He had not expected her to come here— to him.

Yet, survival did not hinge on being truthful, and the point of procedures and propriety had little to do with self-actualization. Honesty, of all things, was not particularly valued in a compound that housed those with all-seeing eyes.

And that was why, Neji decided, he could never be entirely truthful with her.

The blurred outlines of his cousin's shadow was cast against the shoji outside, and if he had been snug in a clean, dry robe and possibly too drowsy to eat his dinner properly, Neji was wide awake now.

"Neji-nii?"

The lanterns in this room were lighted, but there were only two and the room was too large for it to be completely illuminated. While the lights would have told most that he was awake, Neji was aware that Hinata still preferred to sleep with a light or two nearby and assumed this of others, including him.

If he remembered correctly, she had been frightened of the dark as a child.

"Are you asleep?" Her voice was barely audible, even through the thin paper walls. She must have woven her way to his quarters, treading as quietly as she could on the stone path past the North gardens separating the two compounds.

He hesitated. It would be easier for him to be silent.

But the force of habit and the conditioning that he'd received even during his prematurely-disrupted childhood was difficult to overcome. Without understanding the way that he was drawn to the light beyond the other side of the paper doors, he had already started getting up from the table.

Thanks to the seasonal winds, it had snowed a little earlier, and now the evening wind swept the last few fallen flakes into a flurry. The insidious darkness of the garden was dotted momentarily by a rise of dancing white and he looked at the way that Hinata stood before him, shivering a little in the cold and holding a lantern carefully in one hand.

There were a few snowflakes clinging to the bangs on her forehead and her long eyelashes, and he resisted the urge to sweep those off. Evidently, she had stood outside for a while before she'd decided to knock, not even daring to venture even to the veranda while waiting.

"Good evening, Hinata-sama." He greeted her, if only out of formality and because he did not want to confront the issue directly.

"N-Neji-nii." His younger cousin had never really lost her stammer, although it rarely appeared these days. That was, of course, unless she was extremely nervous. "I-I wanted to see if you would h-have a few moments to spare."

Even after all this time, the perpetual shyness of her mannerisms was clear to him. With her free hand, she tightened the shawl around her, fidgeting a little and already being self-conscious. "I disturbed you, didn't I? I'm s-sorry."

"You should come in, Hinata-sama, or you might catch a cold." He told her.

"O-Oh, no, I can't." She demurred immediately, even taking a step back. Timidly, her gaze flickered up to his, and then dropped to the side.

There was the unwritten rule that no woman should visit any man's quarters in the Hyuga compound after dark, save in specific circumstances. The protocol was observed strictly and it was with good reason that Hinata was hesitant. But it seemed evident to him that between freezing to death and keeping to decorum, the former took precedence.

Hence, Neji rephrased his concern in a way that would compel someone like her to come in, prudish practice and sense of propriety or not. "The wind's coming in, Hinata-sama, and my room will get cold."

As he'd expected, she stammered an apology and left the lantern at the side without a further word. Carefully, she slipped her feet out of the casual geta and pattered into his quarters, as wide-eyed and wondering as a kitten.

Her hair, hastily knotted at the base of her neck had loosened. It snaked softly against her chalky cheeks and caught the candlelight in his room. As she crept in warily, her white tabi making her feet soundless against the floor-mats, Neji thought that she might have been a girl of twelve, a young woman of eighteen, or perhaps a soul that had been trapped in a shell for far too long.

He shut out the wind, mostly watching as she moved in.

It occurred to him that she had probably never been in here before, although there was nothing very different about these rooms from the others. This was but a single cell in the body of the Hyuga Estate's highly traditional layout and intricate wooden structures. Save for the variations in size, each structure of the massive estate was backward, stiff and unyielding, and in a corner of the West Compound, most quarters were indistinguishable.

Those aspects made it generally impossible to make many modern amendments to the place, and so the night lights were mostly lanterns and candles. Those illuminated the four walls, the adjoining room where Neji slept, and also the table in this room's corner with his unfinished dinner.

She noticed the food and said worriedly, "I've interrupted your dinner, haven't I, Neji-nii?"

"Not at all." He shook his head, gesturing to invite her to take a seat and then retaking his own. He moved the barely-touched tray to the side but fetched a spare cup and poured tea for the both of them. "I don't have much of an appetite this evening."

"I-I see." She gazed at him, eyes rounded in her concern. Still like a lost kitten, after all these years. Carefully, she noted the new injuries that he'd sustained, and he understood that she was counting those as she tended to do when she saw him. "Did the mission go as planned?"

"Yes, Hinata-sama." He said dutifully, looking right back at her because averting one's gaze was a mark of telling untruths. Smoothly, he turned the questions back to her. "How may I be of use to you?"

She swallowed once, as if gulping for air. She probably hadn't expected him to cut the niceties so soon. Her eyes were very pale in this light, and Neji wondered how those could fill up with so much obvious worry when the Hyuga eyes were mostly blank.

"You must have heard." She finally managed to say. Her hands met and wound together. "If I want to assume the position as the Hyuga head, the Elders suggest that I enter a betrothal."

"Yes, and I offer you my congratulations, Hinata-sama."

Still seated on his knees, Neji moved carefully away from the table and then bowed formally from where he was. His hands touched the floor, and his face was inches away from it.

He knew how to wear a mask.

"Don't, p-please." Hinata shook her head, still not touching the tea that he had poured for her. "I doubt that the Elders would trust the Clan to me— as they have shown." Her lips trembled slightly. "Not in my individual capacity, at least. But if I may serve my Clan in any way, I am fully prepared to."

He did not doubt that she was prepared to. But even as her father had informed him of the Hyuga Council's decision, Neji had instinctively seen their still-existing fears; they thought that she was too inadequate to lead in her own capacity and too unlike the heirs before her.

Try as he did, Neji could not quash the sense of injustice that lingered. Below the near-frozen ponds outside, the water would shift and warm. Konoha was changing with time, and beneath all appearances, she had changed as had some things within the Clan. Why did it have to be so deeply-ingrained in so many of the Hyuga to resist change?

But Neji understood that it was far better for him to continue closing his eyes to her dismay and the way those fingers moved aimlessly around the barley-colored clay cup. It was better for the Hyuga not to look beneath the surface of things too often, and it was better for him not to look at her as someone that he felt any particular emotion or empathy towards.

He watched as she began to fidget again. Her voice was even more hushed than before. "I was told little, but Father informed me that the betrothal may involve a person who is not from this Clan."

At the very least, Neji had prayed, let her not be a sacrifice, even if she had to be a pawn. But it was not his place to remark on such things, and now he ventured to say, "The Hyuga Council has not made a poor decision before— you will be in safe hands, no matter whether the betrothal is within the Clan or not."

"But I was told that they are also considering a betrothal within the Clan," Hinata said softly. She trailed off, looking trapped and lost. "If this is so, Nii-san, I-I ask a favour of you."

Then Hinata moved carefully away from her seat before dropping into a prostrating position before him.

He actually reared back.

The last time Neji had retreated was during a mission when he had been poisoned. And even then, he'd argued with the second-in-charge for a while before he'd reluctantly sent the others forward and then struggled back to the village alone.

Then again, the most lucid, secretive part of Neji had always reckoned that the least likely but most effective person to make him question himself or even falter was this seemingly-helpless cousin.

"Get up!" He said, too shocked to phrase anything politely. It was always in moments like these that he forgot to be formal, even if Hinata herself never addressed him in any other manner.

No matter how he'd once raged and resented what he'd deemed as Fate's hand, Neji had been brought up to live by a strict hierarchy that wasn't so visible as to allow him to take it down. It had taken plenty of time before he'd understood finally that he did not know how to move away completely from this structure and the rules in practice, even if he longed to and arguably managed to at least in principle.

It remained that no matter what his wishes and anger had been directed at, the thirteen year old Neji had still found it unthinkable that the Head had gotten down on his knees.

And for that simple reason, he was horrified that Hinata, heir of the Hyuga Clan, was bowing to him.

"Get up!" He whispered again, mouth dry.

"Please, Neji-nii." She clung to the ground, hair loosening entirely and falling in a dark sheet over one shoulder. "You must have already heard from Father, and surely, your opinion will be called upon soon. Please listen t-to me—,"

"I am but your subordinate, Hinata-sama, and you should not be bowing to me."

It didn't matter that her hands were tight with the force of her words and the boldness that she'd uttered those with. Neji did not wait to argue with her, but moved up and away from the table too. He went to her, sinking onto his knees as she had and trying to pull her up. "Get up. Please, Hinata-sama."

Still, she bowed her head even lower, the shawl slipping off her shoulders in her desperation. He had long realized that her willingness to lower herself did not mean that she was any less determined or inherently proud as a Hyuga woman. To him, she had as good as proclaimed this in the way that she pressed on, fighting silently and in futility as she had all those years ago. Still, some things were not vested in their powers to change.

Perhaps, this was her own way of trying to change her fate.

"No!" She said determinedly, although her voice was muffled by embarrassment. "Not until you agree."

He had to wait a few moments before he trusted himself to speak. By then, he was confident of using his mask and falling behind all that was established and safe once more.

"I don't wish to conspire against the Head and the Elders' plans." Neji said. He had never been good at emoting in certain situations, and his voice sounded hollow, flat and cold even in his own ears.

To him, it was better that way.

Distractedly, she looked at the floor mats, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I— I'm not asking that you c-conspire. I j-just hoped that you would—," Her voice diminished even more, and they both knew that she was ashamed that she had even dared to knock on her cousin's door like this. "I just hoped that you would help me. Tell them that you don't agree to the plans—sway their minds against those."

"I am your subordinate, Hinata-sama, and I have no power to do what you cannot," He said quietly.

"No!" Her voice was a cry. "You aren't my subordinate, Neji-nii! Unlike me, you have Father's absolute confidence. You can persuade them to put the betrothal off for a few more years at the very least—"

"You think too highly of me." She did not quite deserve his coldness, but he didn't know how to tell her of all that he knew. "I have no such standing, Hinata-sama."

"But you're the only person whom I dare to confide in within this Clan—not even Hanabi." Hinata whispered. "I'm not your equal, but you're m-my—" Her eyes met his timidly. "My friend."

Some part of him had never been able to forget hurt, longing, betrayal or wild joy and even the kind of anger that could drive him mad. For all his silent promises, experience and the years that he'd accumulated, he must have been unable to forget what all those emotions were like.

He was nearly forced to look away from her.

But because it seemed right for him to try anyhow, Neji tried to tug her into a less subordinate position. She remained rooted there stubbornly, face turned towards the ground.

He considered asking her to leave. But beyond the protocol associated with their various positions in the Hyuga hierarchy, Neji knew that he would not be able to do so.

For all his talents and superior skills, let alone what she thought of him, he was her subordinate. The world around them could change and warp but the principles of the Hyuga Clan were the unshakeable bedrock for as long as he chose to see the good in them.

Fortunately or otherwise, he did. He had, ever since he'd watched her father kneel before him.

So until the day that the Clan no longer existed and the rules that their lives were governed by were left to crumble, Neji knew what he had to do.

Daring to dream of a different fate had been for boys. The wars and Neji's accumulated years, however, had showed him that real fight had never been against establishments of rules—the real fight was in having the ability to rewrite the rules.

Until then, Neji understood Hinata's role as the Hyuga heir. Truth be told, he was closer to her now than he had ever been in his life except that fight in their first Chuunin exam. He would know—he understood the inexplicable bond that one formed with the person whom one tried to kill.

And after all, as the Head had so persuasively convinced the concerned Clan members, Neji was Hinata's protector.

* * *

III.

"I won't—"

Those were the first words that cracked their paths from his parched lips. Those were frantic, slightly delirious words, and in his mind and dreams, he had shouted the words.

He had been flushed with the last of his vigour. It was frowned upon for a Hyuga, let alone a shinobi, to be passionate. But if he had once mocked Lee and Naruto for being brash, immature and grotesquely energetic in all the wrong ways, here was defiance coursing through his blood. This was his life, pounding against his throat, determination built solely on his desire to live for a purpose.

"—lose."

Unfortunately, Neji had just woken up to the croaking, disused sound of his voice.

"No," His cousin agreed softly, and with a shock that jolted horribly through him, Neji realised that his hand was between both of her own. "You won't."

"H-Hina—,"

He was the one stammering for once, and he told himself that it was the drugs and the pain that was beginning to shoot through him again.

On hindsight, Neji should have let himself slip back into the drug-induced, dreamless sleep. The ache in his body seemed to radiate even to his marrow, and he groaned quietly, feeling the soreness of recently-closed wounds. There were tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and he blinked those back as much as he could.

"Alive." He said, realising that he had spoken quite thickly and stupidly only after he had.

The puncture of a golden, crystallised sting into and through his chest had been more than he could bear, and Neji shuddered inwardly now, not daring to look at the bandages on his body.

In his mind, he could still imagine Kidomaru's webs and the awful pain that bordered on making him completely numb or completely on fire. Shizune's voice, authoritative and yet distant as she directed the operation, was still lingering his head.

Overall, Neji wasn't sure that he was really alive.

There was a delicate floral scent that filled the air, and he briefly wondered if it came from Hinata or the flowers that someone else had brought.

One vase had dramatic roses and the other held small, pretty daisies. The individual choice of flowers were quite telling of who had brought them.

"Tenten-san and Lee-kun were here." She whispered, as if he couldn't tell even in his drug-addled state. "And K-Kiba-kun too."

"Mm." It hurt, even making that syllable. Needless to say, the mission had been a failure, and he had barely escaped with his life.

It wouldn't have been a bad death though, he thought distractedly, peering around as much as he could without moving his head. To have others regret his death been one of those things that Neji had found himself privately wishing for as he had laid on the forest floor and stared into the growing darkness of the pure skies above.

In the deepest of hearts, he'd had his regrets even as he waited to die. He had wished for a chance to really make up for the lost time, to truly earn his teammates' and his Uncle's approval, to make as many friends as he could, and for many other things as well—

Ah well.

The hospital bed that he lay in seemed far too familiar for the thought to be a comforting one. In fact, Neji wondered if Hinata had laid in this same bunk for a period, or if Hanabi had sat exactly where he now lay, glaring hatefully at him.

He glanced at Hinata, who appeared as a haze of white, midnight and possibly lavender. She may or may not have been wearing that ill-fitting tan jacket— it was impossible to tell with how unfocused his vision was.

His hearing however, was unfortunately accurate still. He could hear her breathing and he could tell how unsteady it was. Inwardly, he prayed that when he woke up, he would forget all this and forget the feeling of his hand, numb but warm between her hands.

"Neji-nii." Hinata whispered. Her voice was shaking. "I- I thought that you—,"

And as she sat in the chair by his bed, she began to cry. Quietly but childishly; selfishly.

Stunned, he stared at her, because he could not ever remember seeing her cry like this before him. And uncomfortably, he wheezed, "I'm fine."

"I'm s-so glad." She managed. Neji had always thought that she was unsuitable for this particular trade, but as she spoke, he found himself unable to focus on anything but her voice. "I was thinking of you before you left with the o-others, and I wanted to take a walk and t-train with you and then I heard about it and I thought you'd—"

She interrupted herself with a deep, shuddering gulp.

"Of course not, Hinata-sama." Neji managed to speak, even if his voice shook too. He couldn't even hear himself—not when his head was buzzing with pain. "I am sorry to have troubled you."

She was still sniffling, but he was positive that she was smiling.

He blinked a few times, trying to breathe normally as he steadied his breathing.

"I'm the Branch member who's been assigned to protect you— I don't lose so easily."

* * *

IV.

Having been the boy's teacher in the early years, Higurashi was not surprised to find his former student already up so early in the morning and training in the West Compound's halls.

Back then, Higurashi still had a fairly good chance of defending or predicting this student's onslaught of palms. The boy had been intelligent and hard-working, but Higurashi had not trained and trained others for years to amount to a simple opponent.

While he had never admitted it to anyone, Higurashi counted it a personal triumph to have taught Hyuga Neji in the early days and beaten the nuances of taijutsu into that once small, insignificant body. Each sparring session had left his student with bruises and later, the bandages that Neji had eventually taken to wearing out of convenience and habit.

That of course, was nearly impossible for Higurashi to achieve now.

Watching from where he was, Higurashi marvelled at the technique displayed and at the relentless way that the boy stopped himself to try and perfect even the minutest of details. Hyuga Neji was his best pupil, and Higurashi had often wondered about Hiashi and Hizashi's role in all of this.

This pupil had been about about nineteen when it became fairly clear to Higurashi that the Hyuga Head had chosen his elder daughter to be the next leader of the Clan.

Some had worried about Neji's role within the Clan for a long time. A few had whispered to themselves that he was the favoured one in his generation and that Hiashi had never been closer to his twin's son in the recent years.

Some even bet that the Head would rewrite years of rules and Clan laws to designate Neji as the new Head, and the others had argued and bet against it. One Elder, scandalized and upset by these rumours, had personally warned Neji not to overstep the boundaries, subject of his uncle's favour or not.

Higurashi though, understood the meaninglessness of such speculation. It was precisely because Neji was so trusted by his uncle that Higurashi could see what all their roles were to be.

And that was the funny thing about all of this. No matter what he really wanted or had tried to live against, Neji was truly a Hyuga and there was no denying his talent at living as one. Certainly, Neji must have cursed the Hyuga at least once, but it took an objective observer like Higurashi to see that Neji enjoyed and honed the gift of his eyes.

There was that blood that flowed through Neji's veins, even if he had probably loathed the order that had deprived him of his father and eventually, mother. And as a matter of fact, Neji had upheld the Clan's foundations in bid to save his Hyuga brethren and the rest of the village. He had done that more than once.

The difference however, was that Neji had wanted to.

Whether by conscious design or coincidence, Higurashi's best pupil had always been a deviant within the Clan, despite how he seemed to fit in so perfectly. Granted, like most of the others in the Clan, there was too much ice and snow in his character—he was aloof, sophisticated and slightly standoffish by his very nature. The Hyuga just tended to be.

But unlike the earlier generations of Hyuga, Neji had plenty of good friends beyond the Clan and he cherished them as much as those who bore the Hyuga name. Unlike the generations of Hyuga before him, he didn't see protecting the village as an indirect way of ensuring the Hyuga's survival. Without Neji ever saying it, Higurashi understood that his pupil had never made such distinctions in choosing to protect all those who mattered to him.

The question therefore, was who mattered.

Even now, his former student's eyes were focused on the space before him as he practised his forms and regulated his breathing. Those were eyes that saw things that Higurashi or the other Clan members couldn't—not even when they too, were Hyuga.

Perhaps, those eyes had seen beyond the danger of the Head's elder daughter being taken by the Cloud ninja. Perhaps, those eyes had seen the value in mending the relations between the Clan's factions and had prompted Neji to set off on the mission that Higurashi had been too old and frail to complete by then.

Certainly, that Inuzuka boy and Neji's former teammate had helped him go after the Cloud ninja in the midst of the confusion and chaos of Orochimaru's attack. Still, Higurashi had seen Neji spearhead the entire mission himself.

It was one of those desperate ironies, Higurashi supposed. It was one of those things that old men, tired and bitter without the answers to the questions they'd sought, could appreciate. Surely, the boy's anger had not prevented him from living within that very environment that he'd claimed to hate and desire to change. Perhaps, Higurashi reflected, watching Neji strike and hit with frightening accuracy, his student had learnt the most important lesson of all.

The successful rebels were always those that worked within the existing systems

Privately, Higurashi thought that if he could live to see the path that Hyuga Neji would pave, he would die a perfectly satisfied old man. For now though, there was much to complete.

So Higurashi coughed once, making his presence known to his former student.

Neji of course, had to stop pretending that he hadn't sensed Higurashi and thus stopped his practice.

"This is supposed to be an important day." Higurashi admonished him. "You were instructed to have a good night's rest and to take everything into full consideration to facilitate this morning's meeting."

"Yes, Elder." Neji bowed slightly. He did not, however, begin to remove the training bandages that he wore with his fluid black gear. "I have rested well."

"You were informed to report to the Elder Houji this morning, yes?" Higurashi rapped his walking cane against the floorboards, moving to the student that he'd once towered over.

"Yes, Elder, but in an hour's time." Neji was always stiff and mostly polite.

He was more like his uncle than his father when he was trying to hide his annoyance, Higurashi thought with amusement. There always had to be just a little more irony to the grand scheme of things.

"And what do you think of Hinata as the future Head?"

Usually, Hyuga insisted on subtlety. But if Neji used that as a defence and would not be forthcoming, then Higurashi would be the one to confront the issue quite simply by throwing Neji direct questions.

"She will make a fine Head." Neji said after a moment's consideration. It was clear that he didn't want to say anymore, and it was difficult to see what he really thought.

Now, Higurashi noted with satisfaction that Neji was becoming a first-rate politician like the current Head. Certainly, Konohagakure had and still required diplomatic assistance in securing materials and resources to reconstruct the decimated places and develop other areas. Madara's spate of attacks had taken mere minutes in some instances, but the damage would be far less easy to undo. Even with other countries pitching in to help, it was quite clear that there was a great deal of work to be stretched over the years.

Incidentally, Higurashi ad realised, the Hyuga head had found new ways to utilise the resources and people within the Clan. In Higurashi's opinion, Neji was one such person—efficient, pragmatic, and the best enforcer that would not usurp any particular position. Hinata, of course, was one that remained untapped for now.

As one of those at the Hokage's office had remarked, a pretty face never hurt at a diplomatic dinner. The village's young men, along with shy Academy boys, sophisticated lords, wealthy businessmen and even jaded diplomats had whispered and looked with wondering eyes upon Hyuga Hinata.

And yet her eyes were mostly turned to her father's as she searched for his approval each time. Apart from her father, she clung onto the next Hokage's every word—his silly jokes, his childish mannerisms, his careless utterances and sunny smiles to her and the world at large.

It had gone on for sufficiently long. Plenty of Elders had alluded to the fear of the Head's elder daughter forgetting where her priorities lay, and Hyuga Ko had admitted certain things to the Hyuga Council when questioned about his charge with regard to Uzumaki Naruto.

It wasn't Ko's fault. Hinata had been advised, increasingly over the years, to stay focused on her training. For now, however, she had been kept busy with her new involvement of the Clan and her father's work.

Increasingly, Hiashi had begun to bring his elder daughter to meetings and diplomatic sessions and placed her on his left while Neji had sat at his right. As if to restate what had been previously doubted, Hinata had been introduced as the heir during diplomatic meetings held in the Hyuga Estate and thus inducted into her father's confidence quite suddenly.

During those times, Higurashi had noticed the way that Hiashi had pressed Hinata to give her view on various issues at times. Her sincerity and empathy had more than made up for her lack of experience at such meetings, and seated by her father's side in the right settings, Hinata wielded a power that the more confrontational, highly aggressive and often close-minded Hanabi could not hope to achieve just yet.

On his side, Higurashi had seen the entire process as a silent reinstatement of a position that most had doubted her hold on. Hanabi after all, had been the more prominent sister for many years within the Clan. Of course, it took more than the shinobi arts to establish true power these days, whereby deterrence was no more important than diplomacy. At the same time, keeping Hinata busy subtly prevented opportunities for her to cross paths with Uzumaki Naruto.

Even the most abundant of resources had to be tapped in the right way. At the risk of Hiashi's displeasure, one Elder had remarked at a certain meeting that there had been plenty and far too many incidents of heirs meandering along the way.

Such incidents, as that Elder had commented, were too dangerous, and those were to be avoided at all costs to prevent repetition. Higurashi of course, had fully understood the Head's tightened jaw and how his eyes narrowed without him saying anything— he saw traces of it in Neji even now.

Mostly though, Higurashi still relished the way that the Elder took his seat hurriedly, eyes nervous as he realised that he'd spoken too much. Everybody had their place. It was not advisable to leave it.

All factors considered, Higurashi was fairly certain that Hinata could be managed quite sufficiently. He wasn't quite so sure about Neji, however.

"Have you made your decision?" Higurashi pressed on. He was well aware of the meeting that had transpired between the Head and Neji, although they all pretended that they had no inkling of such an event. For now, anyway.

Neji paused. His eyes moved once—a strange movement for a man with such a steady gaze. "I have."

And that was the thing about this particular former student. As a boy, Hyuga Neji had been frighteningly driven and so very determined. He had been a boy with a mannerisms and a mind that his body had yet to catch up with. Even now when he was arguably a man at twenty, Higurashi wasn't sure that this particular former student's body had caught up to that complex, unfathomable mind.

And that was why Higurashi wasn't all that sure that he could predict this pupil's actions entirely.

* * *

V.

There had been no thunderstorm the night before and Hanabi was no longer a child of three.

As she blinked, adjusting her eyesight to the semi-darkness of her sister's room, she considered that she had no legitimate grounds to be in this futon and curled up against Hinata. There had been no lightning, no frightening sounds in the sky and simply no room for a childish appeal to an older sibling.

It had been a cool, fairly normal night and she was already fifteen and experienced in many ways. She knew how to slit a throat without the person even being able to scream, how to silence a full-grown man with a few palms, and she knew how to make boys and girls wilt or bloom with a single word.

That said, all those were not required for Hanabi to come here. Hinata always received her enthusiastically and stayed up trying to make conversation regarding her younger sister's day. It had confused Hanabi in the earlier years, and because she didn't like uncertainty, she had pushed away. In the later years, her sister's patient, if completely illogical love had amused Hanabi.

In these quieter, more lucid moments however, Hanabi always wondered what kind of pain Hinata went through to look at her and smile and be encouraging. The crux of the matter was that Hinata's nature did not enable her to turn Hanabi away, and Hanabi had always counted on that in any situation.

Having arrived home just an evening ago, Hanabi should have been pleased to count and realize that she had already completed the same number of mid-level missions successfully as Hinata had to date. But if her footsteps had quickened as she'd hurried to Hinata's quarters, her mind already phrasing how she would trumpet this latest success, she had seen her cousin Neji.

Her cousin had been moving out from her father's study, and Hanabi had seen his eyes cast towards the ground even in the dark. He was walking fast and briskly, as he usually did, and if he had sensed her, he ignored her as he mostly did on a normal day.

In the recent years, most would have found him more approachable and plenty had praised him as being mature and courteous enough. But Hanabi bought none of these recommendations— he was trustable in most areas, that was true, but she had never trusted anyone much in the first place.

In the last of the evening's light, those blank, empty eyes had made strange tunnels in his pale face, and his expression generally revealed nothing. Of course though, her father and Neji weren't the only people who knew how to read body language to make fairly intelligent guesses.

From the role that he played in the Clan, the direction he'd headed out from, his hurried footsteps and the tightened fists, she'd guessed that he had been given orders that he wasn't particularly keen to carry out.

More than that though, Hanabi liked certainty.

As Hinata stirred slightly, murmuring something, Hanabi was all too aware that there were plenty of others that cared for her elder sister as much as she cared for them. If the quintessential Hyuga was aloof and kept at the fringe of most village activities, Hinata was the sort of person whom others grew protective of.

Naturally, the children whom she taught took to her, as did the most jaded and experienced colleagues who looked after her as her teammates had. When she had been younger, Hanabi had told herself that Hinata would never be an outstanding kunoichi because her nature was at odds with the trade's essence. She had gloated over that when her father had praised her and cast his eyes over Hanabi's older sister without really looking at her.

Hanabi though, was intelligent enough to understand that the one person that she could not hurt without first feeling anything was Hinata. Even if Hanabi was no fool and certainly lucid enough at any time of the day, it felt better to have her sister's soft form cuddling hers than not, and it was slightly easier not to think about both their unmarked foreheads.

When she had finally admitted to caring enough to think about it, Hanabi had realized that she was just one of the many that her sister cared for, and because she had always known that, her stomach felt shriveled and tiny—bitter and pinched.

Now, she tried not to think of when Neji had first decided that he was more than willing to defend Hinata if at the cost of his life. It was a difficult question, and she began settling back, cuddling in the warmth that she had never admitted to craving.

But it simply wasn't her nature to stop questioning or putting things from her mind. Until she found the answer, she would never be able to stop thinking of the way that Neji had walked beyond her in the gathering darkness. For now, she could put it away, but as all of these things tended to do, it would surface and haunt her again at some point.

Still, it was fine for now. It was fine that Hinata would eventually have to wake soon and report at a meeting in the Ceremonial hall and that Hanabi would have to watch the game of chess and the sacrifice of pawns start.

For Hanabi, these few moments could be spent without the rules of the game mattering, and because Hanabi was the only one who was awake in this moment, it was fine to admit that she could almost remember their mother in these precise times.

After all, the person who Hanabi sought out on certain evenings—the same person who was holding her— was Hanabi's closest link to a mother.

A little later, as Hinata washed up and got ready to leave her quarters, Hanabi rolled onto her side and watched her sister brush her hair. The sun had not really risen yet, but the briskness that Hinata moved with was undeniable. Nor could the way that Hinata quietly chose her white robes over her training clothes be ignored, or how she deposited some spare shuriken on the vanity but pressed some lavender to her wrists.

For now, however, Hanabi chose to ignore it. She watched her sister lie hastily about where she would be going so early in the morning, and in turn, continued with the pretence.

"When do you have your training?" Hinata inquired, hands busy with pulling her hair into a knot.

"It's a free day for me." Hanabi told her sister. "I'll just sleep a little more."

She pretended to yawn, sinking back and looking with deliberately unfocused eyes at Hinata, knowing that if she acted a little bleary, Hinata would not be jumpy around her at all. Even now, Hinata's occasional stammer was tellingly absent.

"Umm, will you be fine here by yourself?" Hinata asked, hand on the door but eyes trained worriedly upon her. "I won't be long, I promise, but I'll request the maids to stay around."

"There's no need." Hanabi told her directly and brusquely, forgetting her pretence for a moment. Hinata might have been nearly kidnapped in the past, but Hanabi was quite sure that such a thing would never occur to herself.

But Hinata looked even more concerned. "N-No, I think they better be around. I'll ask them to bring breakfast for you."

"Do as you please." Hanabi said dismissively, short of shrugging. She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, more comfortable with the dark than the light.

To her, it was laughable for Hinata to think of herself as Hanabi's protector. Really, Hanabi was more likely to rip an unarmed enemy's throat out than Hinata was likely to hurt a helpless creature.

But because this was an integral part of the pretence that Hanabi herself liked to play a part in, she went along with everything. After all, it had taken some years for Hanabi to discover the loss of her childhood and crave something that she'd never really had.

While it was too late that she'd decided that she wanted to have that little bit of indulgence, it wasn't too late to pretend that she could still have it.

Inwardly however, Hanabi knew what her role was. Mark or no mark, younger daughter or not, she was her sister's flesh and blood, and their father was going to become part of the past. Whether by anybody's own doing or not, it was an inevitable aspect of a system that her father had helped to implement and perpetuate. Time of course, was never on anybody's side, let alone her father's.

The day would come, Hanabi thought blithely, sitting up now as the maids arrived. And what a fine day it would be—she would relish the moment when her father looked at Hinata and wondered if he and the Heads before him had been wrong to deprive all their lives of something simple and pure.

"Hanabi-sama," One of the maids greeted her. The maid was already nervous in her presence.

Because she had cultivated this habit upon learning as to why the Hyuga Clan had servants whereas plenty of other clans struggled to keep alive, Hanabi noted automatically that this maid had dark hair and pale skin. They were just two of many servants who bore the Hyuga name, thanks to past generations of folly.

The other maid hung behind the first one and said meekly, "We've brought you a change of clothes."

Hanabi gazed at her momentarily, ticking off the usual items on her mental list. This maid however, only had a hint of Hyuga blood with that slender form of hers. Her hair was a distressing honey colour, and Hanabi's lip curled. As distant relatives to the main and branch family members, their Hyuga blood was much-weakened to the point that their eyes came in all colours but the pearl tones. In fact, few of these distant relatives retained a significant amount of the Hyuga's trademark looks.

"Leave the clothes there." Hanabi said simply, pointing to the edge of the door that the maids knelt at without crossing into room. She would not allow any of them in here, and she would spare them no further word.

While those that were born with the all-seeing eyes were automatically included as part of the Hyuga clan, it remained that a servant who gave birth to a child with the all-seeing eyes experienced no elevation of status. A child without the Hyuga eyes too, would either live in the other areas of the village or end up like these maids.

And just as it was accepted that most Hyuga children were usually branded by the age of five, there was so much decorum that was never truly formalised but nonetheless ingrained into every Hyuga's sub-consciousness. It was understood then, that these unwritten rules, along with the division of the Clan and the marital arrangements, had to be upheld for the Clan's good— whatever that was.

Sometimes, Hanabi thought, it was better to be branded than not.

The finger marks had faded quickly enough but Hanabi didn't see it as much as feel it—the first time her father hit her. If she had been looking for proof that he even cared about his first daughter, she found it in provoking him.

And as the maids slid the shoji shut, Hanabi understood that they were exchanging a glance as if to note the differences between the younger and older mistresses.

Smiling in approval at how she'd conditioned the maids to be wary around her, Hanabi stretched out in her sister's bed and got ready to go back to sleep.

* * *

VI.

In this hall, the atmosphere was just as menacing as when she'd stepped in here as a child. The familiar incense that was lit every morning was still faint in the air, and the wood of the floor and the walls had soaked it up over the years even as the number of ceremonial tablets had accumulated.

At some point, Hinata saw her cousin's eyes flit to a particular one amidst those, and she swallowed with some difficulty. No doubt, it was his father's.

She had met Neji along the path to this main ceremonial hall, where one of the key elders had arranged to meet the both of them. It had been inevitable, seeing that this was the only path to the hall, and they'd walked the circumference of lotus ponds in a somewhat awkward silence.

Mostly, Hinata reflected, it had been her doing.

For plenty of previous occasions, Neji had proved to be quite capable of making conversation or of even smiling at jokes. If it had been surprising, it had still been pleasant, and she'd learned that he owned a rather dry sense of humour as opposed to Kiba or Naruto's rambunctious personalities. It had probably been her obvious tenseness that had made him clam up as well, and they'd had little to say to each other, if at all.

Now that they were before one of the Elders, Hinata did not dare to remind Neji of the promise that he'd made her last night. Besides, Neji seemed unafraid of Houji, and his steadiness was something that Hinata envied—particularly in situations like these.

Hinata had been too nervous rehearsing what she'd planned with Neji the evening before, and she had not eaten anything for breakfast. Presently, however, she tried to swallow to lessen her throat's dryness and realized that she would have preferred to have had some tea at hand.

It was exceedingly obvious to Hinata that Hyuga Houji had never been fond of Neji. Even before she and Neji took their seats, Houji indicated that the servant should leave, and there was a distaste that lingered in his expression when he looked at Neji. Clearly, the serving of tea or general courteousness to Hinata and Neji was probably trivial in the scheme of things that Houji was concerned with.

Without being able to serve them tea, Houji's manservant nervously retreated, apparently quite eager to leave them all there. Also, the servant cast Neji a more nervous look than what he accorded to Houji, and Hinata was quite sure that nobody in this room was as comfortable or trusting with Neji as she was.

For a long time, Hinata had preferred to avoid Neji at all costs. He had somehow been distant as far as her memory could serve her, and she'd heard plenty of those in and outside the Clan call him arrogant.

But really, nobody could fault the faint remnants of cool self-assuredness and Hyuga Neji's previous claims of prescience. Hyuga Neji's eyes were the best in many generations, and what was substantially left to the imagination with all-seeing eyes? To most of the Hyuga, he was the ultimate autodidact who'd required no formal training to have reached the true pinnacle of the Clan's arts. To the others, they were either plainly jealous or wary of him.

That was apparently fine with Neji, although it bothered Hinata to no end. As a result, she sat fidgeting, inexplicably wilting under the unfriendly gaze that Houji shot not at her, but at Neji.

"You must have no doubt as to why your presence has been requested here this morning." Houji said. He cut his words thinly, slicing each syllable from the next with minimal movement of his hands or eyes. It reminded Hinata-sama of the kunai-throwing practices that every shinobi went through.

"Yes, Elder." She said dutifully. Neji, next to her, did not speak, and Houji's eyes became slits.

As an Elder who was her father's key advisor and uncle, Houji generally fit into the mould of a Hyuga male. He had once been a beautiful youth, as rumors had suggested, and he had ascended the ranks within the Clan and in the greater part of Konoha rapidly.

His hair however, had thinned greatly and his pale, wrinked skin resembled crumpled paper—surely nothing could last forever. But Hyuga Houji was used to speaking with great authority and an enunciation, and Hinata immediately understood why he had been an invaluable counselor to Hinata's grandfather and now Hyuga Hiashi.

Perhaps Houji and so many others were afraid of Neji. Hinata could see that Neji was different from the rest of them, and that he threatened their conceptions of the Clan and what its basic principles were. Neji was both a branch member but a trusted council member; an insider but one who always chose to be slightly distanced from all the politicking, and Hinata would have to rely on him more than ever now.

Wanting to emulate her cousin's impeccable control, Hinata sat a little straighter, hoping to look half as convincing as Neji.

"Last night, Hinata-sama's betrothal to a worthy husband was arranged for. Several candidates were considered." Houji said, his gaze sill piercing and focused on Neji.

"I have only recently turned nineteen," Hinata murmured, her throat distressingly dry still.

Even as she spoke, she knew it was a weak argument and lowered her gaze when Houji stared at her.

"Most of the Hyuga clan members were initiated into betrothals at even younger ages." Houji said bitingly. Neji had told her just as much yesterday evening, and now Hinata's cheeks burned.

"May I ask—," She ventured timidly, somehow daring to ask the questions here. "Who are those that the Elders and my father have considered?"

"The Elders did consider betrothing the Hyuga heir to the last member of the Uchiha Clan." Houji told them.

Hinata flinched, feeling rather as if Houji had referred to another person entirely. Indeed, he seemed to be looking through her, rather than at her. At least however, Houji was honest. He would not indulge her or humour her, and he treated her as no more and no less than what she had long become used to in the Clan.

Seated next to her, Neji spoke up, as Hinata had requested. "I find it difficult to believe that Lord Hiashi would approve of the Uchiha."

A little relieved that Neji had stuck to what she'd asked of him and begun intercepting, Hinata began to nod. So long as Neji said what she had asked him to say, Houji would convince the other Elders that she was not prepared for this betrothal yet.

But Houji's pale eyes flitted to Neji's, and the disapproval was very clear in them.

"I hardly think that this is for you to judge." Houji looked at Neji diffidently and pursed his lips. It was clear that he felt that Neji had spoken out of turn. Likewise, when Hinata ventured to speak, Houji looked rather displeased.

"As Neji-nii says, I think that my father would not approve." She trailed off, wondering what to say. Her father had never mentioned Uchiha Sasuke in any particular context, let alone in this one, but of what she recalled, he'd been rather skeptical of the person that Konoha had received once more.

"That one is more trouble than he is worth," Her father had said coldly, when someone had informed him that Uchiha Sasuke had come back to the village. At that time, Hinata had wondered what her father would have said about Uzumaki Naruto, had his opinion been required.

"As Hinata-sama says," Neji echoed, "It is unlikely that Hyuga-sama will approve."

Hinata gave him another grateful glance.

"Then you'd be surprised." Houji said, picking up his brush once more. His calligraphy was neat and precise, rather like the tone he used currently. "At our last meeting, Hyuga-sama did concede and admit to the merits of incorporating the last member of a related clan. The Sharingan is highly related to the Byakugan, as you would both know."

"So are plenty of other shinobi arts." Hinata said, daring to even speak at all.

"But none as strongly as the Sharingan," Houji said sharply, his brush paused above the paper. "Some Plenty of Hyuga lords and ladies were betrothed to their distant relatives from that separate clan—it is almost a tradition in itself."

"Some traditions," Neji said softly, eyes laser-white and unblinking "Should be left behind."

Hinata would have nodded, except that Houji's glare was too apparent to ignore. The Elder looked from Neji to her, and his gaze was harsh enough for her to look down at her hands.

"If you must know," Houji said testily, "Uchiha Itachi was considered to be a candidate for betrothal at some point—until the tragedy occurred, of course. The arrangement still stands in many ways, and I think it would interest you to know that the Head was rather willing to consider Uchiha Sasuke."

Personally, Hinata could remember very little about the original arrangement, especially since nobody in the Clan had spoken of the way that it had fallen through after Uchiha Itachi had become a missing nin. Besides, the proposition of having a Hyuga servant entering the woods that Uchiha Sasuke often meditated in and thus requesting that he take time off to visit the Hyuga Estate and get hitched along the way was awkward, if not pathetic.

Neji however, met Houji's glance with a cool, measured gaze, and she felt a little relieved. Surely, Neji would do as she'd begged of him the evening before.

"If I may go so far as to speak for Hinata-sama," Neji said swiftly, "I think that she would find Uchiha Sasuke a difficult person. With all due respect to Uchiha Sasuke and the Elders, he is still assimilating to Konoha, and lives in the segregated area. As you and Hinata-sama would know, he is still receiving medical aid and in the lengthy process of recovering from his—" Neji paused delicately. "Experiences."

While Hinata wasn't sure that it was as drastic as Neji had made it sound, Hinata was certainly thankful that her cousin had spoken up.

"I agree entirely with Neji-nii." Hinata said hastily and very thankfully.

Sitting by her side, Neji never even looked at her. Hence, she waited for Houji to speak, and he might have, had Neji not continued on quite abruptly.

"And thus, if it is the Elders and Lord Hiashi's wishes, I will most gratefully serve to the best of my abilites."

Confused, Hinata looked at Neji. His eyes were still focused ahead, and she watched in horror as he continued.

"It would be of the utmost honour to be Hinata-sama's bethrothed."

"Ah." Houji said, as if anything made sense at all.

It took her more willpower than she'd realized to prevent her cry of alarm. Frantically, Hinata looked at Neji, willing him to take his eyes away from Houji's and to face her. A strange, muffled sound pressed between her lips, but when Houji looked at her, she found herself silent with nothing that she could possibly manage to say.

Since she had begged him to, Neji had promised to help her delay the betrothal. But surely, this was not what she had wanted or what he had assured her of. Yet, she could not say it here. Not now—she could not possibly when Houji was before them, and not when Neji had just said what he had.

"It will be an honour." Neji repeated again. There was stoniness to his face, and she could infer no particular emotion from his voice.

Above them, the portraits of the deceased Hyuga watched them all.

"Of course." Houji said. There was something a little abrasive in his tone as he appraised Neji. "As it has always been for a member of the Branch Family."

Neji said nothing, even if Hinata sensed his hands tightening in his lap. Had he already known the futility of her arguments?

Surely, he'd already made the same ones and been rejected by the Elders? Why then, Hinata thought desperately, had he led her into thinking that she could argue against this with his help?

"Must there be a betrothal at all?" She whispered, her voice breaking and shifting into a whisper. The blood was rushing from her face and her hands were cold. At this point, she could not bring herself to look at Neji.

"If it is both your duties." Houji said bluntly. "It is being arranged even as we speak now." He brought out some rice-paper, then dipped a brush into freshly mixed ink and prepared to write. "Hyuga-sama has given his approval. In fact, he was the one who suggested it and spoke to Neji yesterday evening."

"I don't understand," She tried to calm her breathing. "Must the betrothal be so soon?"

Neji only frowned a little more. He did not look at her. Instead, he said nothing, but sat a little straighter, his brow furrowed.

Desperately, she twisted her hands in her lap, trying a final tactic. "Neji-nii has his duties as a jounin and the leader of an elite team and surely, there will not be any time for him to settle down and—,"

"Younger members of the clan have served their duties within and beyond the Hyuga clan equally competently." Houji cut in, his gaze harsh and very critical upon her.

Now, the words he wrote on the paper, it seemed to Hinata, were blurring. She blinked rapidly, trying to control herself.

"Neither of us fail to understand the duties involved." Neji acknowledged. His hands were perfectly poised even in his stationary position, but it seemed that he was not truly at ease. He reminded her of a sparrow waiting to spring from the ground at any hint of an attack. "I fully comprehend the scope of my duties, Elder. On my part, I assure you of my utmost compliance."

Stricken, Hinata snuck a glance at him, expecting him not to look at her. But she was mistaken this time, for his eyes focused on hers. Even when she uneasily slid them back to Houji, Neji continued to look at her. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to cover her mouth from how uncomfortable she felt.

"I understand that you will have no problems deferring your erstwhile duties within the Clan for the specified period?" Houji's tone left no room for argument, and he was writing at an even quicker pace. "There are plenty of preparations for this betrothal that must be made."

But this was where Neji hesitated. His gaze slid a little. When he spoke once more, she sensed that he was looking directly at her.

"It will always my responsibility to continue serving the Head family." Neji offered finally.

With that headband of his, it was easy to forget what lay imprinted on the skin beneath the steel and cloth. Hinata had. She had willed and expected him to, but he knew better.

They all knew better.

Houji seemed just as or even more inscrutable than Neji himself, and suddenly, a silent understanding seemed to pass between them both. It seemed to run in the whole family, Hinata despaired as she looked at the two men, save for herself.

Neji's voice revealed nothing of what he was thinking. "I will make the necessary preparations on my part."

He would, wouldn't he? She clenched her fists in her lap.

"As will Hinata-sama," Houji said pointedly, when she did not respond. "Who has far less onerous duties than Neji does."

Stricken, Hinata lowered her eyes. She stood up, a little unstable. She tried to imitate Neji's stoic manner. Her voice shook still. "I understand. As I will."

For most of it, she thought she did fairly well. Granted, her voice had shaken, but it was such a tiny tremor that she told herself that none of them would have heard it.

"You may be excused, Hinata-sama." Houji began printing characters fast on the paper. "I understand that you have your training to return to."

"Yes, Elder." She managed a slight bow that he barely acknowledged. It was just as well.

She did not look at either of them as she left. Her tears and anger did not come until much later and only after she began to walk and then break into a run.

That, she found, was the only consolation.

* * *

VII.

It was only when he had turned eighteen recently that Neji finally felt ready to clear out some of the old boxes. Those were stacked and piled high, put into storerooms adjoined to his father's empty quarters, and it seemed that they loomed higher and higher each year.

It just so happened that Neji had been given a few days off, and it was on this one afternoon when he wanted to take a break from training. At the same time, he felt a need to sort things out beyond his general preference to keep things neat, and those cupboards had been neglected in the vacant quarters for far too long.

Some manservant passed by, noticed what he was doing and begged him not to concern himself with spring-cleaning during this hot summer period. Certainly, the servants could do it if he wished, and he did not need to concern himself with these mundane things.

But Neji waved him away, increasingly intent on clearing the things out. "It's time that I did it myself."

In the wardrobes, he found plenty of things. Some of the wooden chests were beautifully preserved because wood of that quality simply did not rot or warp. But some were less well-kept even when they'd been wrapped in cloth and had uneven wood shards that Neji took care to avoid. One box had a number of rusty locks that he only managed to snap open after exerting a little more force than he had expected, and he pondered about his father's old books for a minute before leaving them intact.

It was dizzying and strange, this exercise of emptying the contents of all these boxes. He felt as if he had been distinctively related to each item at some point, but the memories and years between the past and the present had eroded and he was mostly puzzled by the knick-knacks that he pulled out.

Then Hinata visited at some point, if only to tell him that she was off for a mission.

As he heard her soft voice and got up, weaving past all the things carefully to slide open the paper doors, she looked around and her lips parted in surprise. "Neji-nii?"

"Just clearing out some old things." Neji explained, noting that she had packed for an apparently long mission.

"I-I see." A small smile touched her lips hesitantly.

She seemed afraid to step past the threshold, for she was considerate enough to view herself as an intruder even whilst Neji did not. Likewise, he stood respectfully at a distance while the waste of the past lay all around him, far too aware of his own position to drop the honorifics despite her repeated insistence.

"Will you t-throw all those away?" Her eyes flickered worriedly at an increasingly tall heap.

"Maybe." Neji admitted. But as he looked at her, seeing as her eyes wandered over the now-faded cloths and once-treasured items, he understood instinctively that the contents of the boxes were not more valuable than the memories that those were associated with.

In some way as he gazed at her, Neji had reached that conclusion himself.

"I wish I c-could help," She said, eyes wide as she glanced around. "It seems like an awful lot to go through, Neji-nii."

"But I can manage, "He told her, and then decided to say whatever was on his mind because they'd been through enough for that amount of honesty at the very least. "Just come back safely, Hinata-sama."

Her eyes flew from the to-be-discarded heap to his, and then she nodded once, returning his smile rather bashfully. And when Hinata finally left, sliding the doors close very quietly, it took him a while before he could get on with his task.

After she left, he continued to struggle to open many of the boxes, for the keys to most had been lost.

He found old robes that his father had worn. Those were mostly all dark-coloured in grays and dark blues. There were the even more formal black ones, although Neji noted that none of them had the motif of the Hyuga crests, save the discreet ones in the lining of the sleeves. His mother's kimonos, of course, had been taken with her and there were few of her possessions left, but Neji doubted that many of those would have been bright-coloured.

In another chest, he found letters that had been exchanged by his father and the Hyuga head when they'd been much younger. Apparently, separate missions hadn't prevented their communication at that point, although many things in the later years probably had.

There were also some old weapons and some sandals that had probably seen better days. A dented, rusty hitate-ate was in one, and after some careful consideration, Neji put his father's first forehead protector in the pile to be labeled as waste later.

He threw everything away, saving only a few of his father's wearable clothes if out of a grudging sentimentality. Everything else was impractical to keep—the Academy graduation certificates, the faded paintings that someone had given his father, and the lovingly-folded clothes that Neji had worn as a child. For Neji, so much of the past had been misunderstood that keeping the ghosts in their boxes felt like a rather wasteful pursuit.

In one small box, however, Neji found some old calligraphy exercises and a few spare scrolls with nothing written in them. Shifting through those, he smiled at his father's beautiful penmanship, and then Neji's own efforts to emulate the strokes as a child. At the very least, his mother had encouraged and preserved the obviously laborious efforts that he'd once undertaken to complete every stroke properly.

There was a particular ripped scroll that made him stare, for it featured a miniature drawing with queer shapes. Some parts of the drawing were oblong and shaded grey with marks and tiny labels that he must have once made. His curiosity piqued, he looked at it but could not understand, and he inadvertently puzzled over it for the next few days.

When Neji passed the North gardens some mornings after, a thought struck and he activated the Byakugan.

That, he realized, was the thing about the Hyuga Estate. Like its inhabitants, the structures within the Hyuga Estate was pre-determined and followed strictly. Even over a decade, little change had been made to the shapes of the manicured trees, lawns and flowerbeds and the pagoda. What had always been would always be.

The Byakugan that he'd activated as a child had once warped the shapes and made everything seem large and far and near all at once. But the Hyuga eyes were all-seeing, unchanging eyes, and as a child, what he had seen of the garden with these eyes was similar to all that he now saw as an adult.

Realizing that the structures in the distance matched what he could remember of the scribbled map, Neji hurried to his quarters and fetched the ragged piece of paper. And following the childish although somewhat cryptic labels, he had a wild thought and began trying to retrace the steps that he must have taken as a boy.

So Neji measured half-steps around the place, all the while looking out for others in case he was caught doing something as silly and embarrassing as taking mincing steps while constantly referring to a crumpled scroll.

Thankfully, nobody was around this early in the morning. As much as possible, Neji followed the map meticulously, stopping only when he needed to decipher what were probably errors in writing and strange, hastily-scribbled words.

Eventually, he came to rest at the third tree at the edge of the pagoda. It was well-pruned and a graceful twisting system of branches. Overall, it seemed to fit with the uniform row of others. However, the map illuminated nothing else, and he was left staring blankly at the tree.

He might have left, and perhaps on hindsight, he should have.

But Neji thought of the perpetually if obsessively neat penmanship that he'd been forced to practice as a child until it became second nature to write legibly and beautifully. And he thought of the crumpled, hurriedly drawn shapes and the ink splotches and found himself wondering about the child that he had once been.

Standing there, he would have seemed to be admiring a particularly fine specimen of a spruce tree to any passing person. But inside, Neji was confused and fixated on the steps that he had possibly taken as a child, and now as an adult.

Frankly, he could have stood there all day long, obstinate and unmoving, refusing to let go of a clue that had probably been a kind of key to a boxed memory. He probably wouldn't have, since there was a limit to his stubbornness and the time he could spend in increasingly futile efforts to remember anything particular about this tree.

Then one of the aunts passed by, thanking him for the old but sturdy child's pail and spade that he'd found in the old chests and passed on to a her toddler the other day. A few of the Hyuga children had been given his old clothes, and a few had received the even fewer toys that he'd retained in possession.

"I'm glad those are still usable." He told her. "Although I'm afraid those are a bit old."

"Oh no, Naoki was thrilled," She told Neji and then excused herself because the morning market was starting beyond the Compound's gates.

Had she turned back after Neji had waved aside her thanks graciously and with uncharacteristic absent-mindedness, that particular aunt would have seen Neji bend down.

Had she suspected that he was doing more than taking a morning walk and continued watching Neji, she would have seen him dig more and more feverishly until he suddenly paused and sat back, caring little that the earth would soil his clean robes.

In the earth and well-buried for plenty of years, Neji had found yet another wooden box.

Its smooth, sandy tones had been stained by the dirt, and he stared at it, wiping the sweat from his cheek with a careless, impatient hand. Lifting it from its grave, he wondered what had inspired him to keep a time capsule as a child.

Frankly, Neji even doubted that it was even his. To the best of his memory, he could not recall much aside from the years of training, the falling and getting up again, and the anger that had kept him awake on plenty of nights.

But surely, he thought as he glanced at the map, he had bothered writing instructions for a reason. Surely, those instructions had been his and something had been important for him when he had been a child.

And thus Neji made his decision and snapped open its loosened hinges.

Opening it, he found nothing but a small cat doll.

* * *

**A/N: Well it's been a long time folks! Thank you to all who read and reviewed, and I have to say that I've been so greatly encouraged by so many out there! I hope you liked this chapter and continue to read and review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, and what you want to see next!**


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